Aftermath
by obsessed1
Summary: Common Ground tag. Sheppard has to deal with the aftermath of events......Whump! Come on....I wrote it
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: If only it were mine..._sigh!_

Common Ground Tag

By Obsessed1

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Elizabeth nervously approached the Jumper bay, her heart clamouring to escape from her chest as it beat hard and fast in apprehension of seeing Sheppard. They had radioed in and told her that Sheppard was fine, that he was alive, but she still needed to see him to believe it for herself.

When she entered she saw that they had already exited the Jumper and the team and the marines that had been instrumental in the rescue mission were standing around Sheppard giving him handshakes, slapping him on the back and telling him it was good to have him home. Sheppard was standing in the centre of them, smiling, and appearing for all the world unaffected by his experiences away. She heard him laugh and took a moment to watch him. She hadn't known what to expect but she wasn't surprised to see him deflecting questions and hiding any feelings with a thick veneer of flyboy charm.

She parted the crowd and walked over to him, "Welcome back," she said managing to keep her tears of relief at bay. He turned to her; his skin was glowing, looking inexplicably young. She found herself looking at his hair. There was no sign of grey. She stepped forward and gave him an awkward hug.

"It's good to be back," he said. He smiled and she didn't miss that it failed to reach his eyes.

"We should get you to the infirmary and checked out," said Beckett stealing his attention.

Sheppard groaned and scrubbed a hand through his hair, "I'm fine Carson," he said and gave him a puppy dog expression which pleaded for him to be let off the hook, "I feel _really_ good right now." He was unconsciously flexing his fingers, bounding up and down on his heels and looking at everyone with wide, if slightly glassy, eyes. If Elizabeth hadn't known better she would have said he had taken something. There was something off about his demeanour, his manic cheerfulness, the way he wouldn't really meet anyone's gaze.

"I'm sure you do," said Beckett, "but I still need to check that the aging process didn't cause any permanent damage." He crossed his arms over his chest in a well practiced gait that said Sheppard couldn't get out of it, "I promise I won't keep you longer than necessary."

Sheppard nodded, "Okay, but I'll hold you to that."

"Mind if we join you?" asked Mckay turning to him and flanked by Teyla and Ronon.

Sheppard rolled his eyes, "Sure. I guess I'm the new science project huh? Everyone wants to see the amazingly youthful man." The words were forced out, strained, and it would appear his 'top of the world' appearance was carefully cultivated.

"We're just concerned," said Teyla patting his arm.

The move was barely perceptible but he flinched.

"Mind if I come?" asked Elizabeth.

His eyes finally met hers; hollow and dead," More the merrier."

He strode out of the Jumper bay and motioning with one hand, "Are you coming?" he shouted over his shoulder.

----------

Beckett pocketed his penlight and crossed his arms thoughtfully.

"So how's he doing?" Elizabeth asked as Beckett wrote down the results from his battery of tests. She kept her voice low.

Sheppard was sitting on the infirmary bed, swinging his legs back and forth, and carrying out a conversation with Mckay. His hands were planted back onto the bed and he was leaning casually. The way he was acting, for some reason, Elizabeth found it infuriating.

"He's doing remarkably well. I can't find any signs that indicate he was fed on. His blood pressure is slightly elevated and his heart is racing, but aside from that, he's healthy."

Sheppard continued to swing his legs back and forth and Elizabeth was mesmerised by his nonchalance. Even if she knew it was forced. It had to be.

"Is he okay?" asked Elizabeth.

Beckett looked over at Sheppard, "He's hiding it well."

"He seems a little-"

"High?" Beckett finished for her with a nod, "I'd say he has a surplus of adrenaline circulating at the moment. I know you're worried and frankly, so am I. He appears healthy but there has to be psychological repercussions from this."

The both turned back to him in complete synchronicity.

"So I'm good to go?" asked Sheppard looking over to them with wide eyes. He was tapping his legs now, full of excess energy, wired like a Duracell bunny.

"I'd say so," said Beckett, "I _would_ like to keep you in for overnight observation."

"No," said Sheppard with a wave of his hand.

Beckett continued, "- but I really see no reason to keep you in here. If you start to feel unwell I expect you back here though."

"Are you _sure_ you're okay?" asked Elizabeth narrowing her eyes.

He looked at them all individually and then hopped off the bed, "I'm alive," he said, "I don't know how, or why, but I'm still here."

They were all sharing nervous glances, not really knowing what to say, or how to treat Sheppard. He had a nasty habit of glancing over events which affected him. In his time on Atlantis he had never disclosed any of his fears or voiced regrets. He simply pushed them away, compartmentalised them, and then conveniently forgot about them.

"I can't believe that the wraith can give life back," said Mckay.

"It's certainly an interesting development," said Beckett, "However, we don't have any idea how that would effect the body." He looked over to Sheppard.

"I'm not staying here tonight," he said shoving his hands into his pockets.

"You shouldn't have let him go," Ronon said.

Sheppard met his eyes, "We made a deal. And I'm not in the habit of breaking them."

"He is wraith," said Teyla.

"And he knows about Atlantis." Ronon argued.

"He won't tell," said Sheppard. He couldn't understand what their problem was. Wasn't having him standing here animated and alive enough for them? It seemed they wanted to question his decisions and motivations and really none of them knew what he had endured back there.

"You trust him?" Teyla asked.

"Look…without him, I wouldn't have got out of that cell. And without him I would be dead."

"He _fed_ on you," said Mckay.

"I know," said Sheppard rounding on him, "I was there…remember?" Just thinking about it made his chest burn uncomfortably. If he blinked slowly enough he could still see the wraith looming over him with his outstretched and hungry hand.

"I think it would be a good idea if you spoke to Heightmeyer about this," said Beckett.

"I don't want to talk about it; in fact, I'd rather erase the whole episode from my mind."

"You might think you're okay but-"Beckett was cut off before he could continue.

"Look," The words came out rushed and harsh and Sheppard held his hands up as if they were pointing guns at his head, "I'm _really_ okay."

"Are you?" Elizabeth asked again.

He narrowed his eyes, "What do you want from me? Do you want me to react? Punch a wall, cry inconsolably-"

"I just think-"

"Why don't _you_ all go talk to Heightmeyer. You guys had to watch it," he countered before Beckett could finish.

"We are," Ronon added.

Sheppard raised his eyebrows, surprised at the admission, and swallowed hesitantly before continuing.

"Well then, you do that, but I don't want to relive the shittiest day of my life. I want to move on and…" he paused, "I want to get some lunch and go to bed and wake up in my quarters and not on the floor of some grotty cell." He put his hands on his hips.

"We'll join you," said Teyla.

"I don't need babysitting."

"Well maybe we're hungry too. We've been searching for you and haven't eaten either." Mckay said.  
"Oh," Sheppard looked down at the floor, "Okay. Well let's go, if that's okay with you Doc."

"That's fine."

-----------------

Sheppard joined the lunch queue and picked up a tray. He moved down the line behaving like a man who hadn't just been imprisoned and fed on for two days.

He didn't notice Ronon, Teyla and Mckay all sharing glances behind his back.

"Do think he's okay?" Mckay whispered as he reached for utensils.

"Colonel Sheppard has a habit of-" Teyla stopped speaking when she noticed Sheppard covertly angling his head towards her.

"So, what have we got today," said Mckay clearing his throat loudly and trying to break the silence, "I'm starving."

_Have you ever felt starvation Sheppard?_

McKay saw Sheppard's back stiffen, but he didn't say anything, just continued up the line.

"Oh man!" Sheppard suddenly slammed his hand down onto the counter with frightening force. The counter shook, the utensils rattled and the glass wobbled in its hinges. The whole room seemed to look their way, a crowd of faces all nosily trying to work out what was going on.

"What is it?" Mckay asked wondering what had got the man so irate. Sheppard's face was contorted into one of pain, his breathing becoming erratic, and his eyes wide. He sighed and put his hand up to his head and Mckay was about to reach forward to steady him when Sheppard spoke.

The words which escaped his mouth weren't the ones that Mckay had been expecting. "_Who_ ate the last turkey sandwich?" he turned to the lunch crowd and tried to eye everyone's trays for the elusive snack, "Dammit!" he turned back to the counter and picked up some meatloaf, "I _hate_ meatloaf," he grumbled as he continued up the line. He reached out for some juice and another hand grabbed it before he could get it, "Son of a bitch," he muttered and picked up a glass to get some water.

He shook his head and angrily walked over to one of the tables and placed his tray down. He sat and dug his fork into the meatloaf, stabbing it repeatedly and muttering under his breath about it having the consistency of cardboard.

Mckay sat opposite him as Ronon and Teyla placed their trays down.

"So, I wanted to thank you guys," said Sheppard as he prodded his food. He didn't lift his eyes.

"You do not need to thank us," said Teyla.

"Yeah I do," said Sheppard, "I knew you wouldn't leave me there."

He stared at his meat loaf with disgust.

"We got lucky. Laden gave us the location," said Mckay as he dipped his spoon into his soup.

"Laden helped you?" Sheppard seemed surprised, "Looks like I didn't permanently brain damage the man."

"No," said Mckay.

"I tell you one person I'm going to damage," he stabbed his knife into his meatloaf with excessive force, "-Kolya. Rat bastard."

"Speaking of rats," said Ronon changing the subject skilfully.

"Rodney shot a…mouse?" said Teyla with a smile.

Mckay gave her a look. His eyes were still wide and panicked by Sheppard's displays of overt anger.

"A mouse?" said Sheppard. He seemed to calm, his shoulders relaxing, and his hold on his knife shifted from white knuckled death grip to loose indifference. He actually grinned. It wasn't natural, in fact, there was something remarkably creepy about the way he was smiling.

"I saw movement and I reacted to it," said Mckay with a shrug. He didn't know how Sheppard could carry on normal conversation and be so damn cheerful. He had been fed on by a wraith and he was acting as if it was just another day's work. His mood was noticeably changeable, switching from happy to pissed off in a matter of seconds. There was no doubt in his mind that Sheppard needed to talk to Heightmeyer about his experience.

"Mice aren't generally armed with P90's" said Sheppard with a wry grin.

"It was more like a rat," Mckay argued.

Sheppard drank some of his water and Mckay couldn't miss the shake of his hands. On noticing, Sheppard put the glass down quickly to mask it.

"So why are you so happy?" asked Mckay dropping his spoon. He couldn't help it. His mind always seemed to ponder a question and then he'd find himself saying it.

Sheppard looked up at him with a puzzled expression, "Would you drop it?"

"No, I'm intrigued."

"Before you guys turned up…that wraith drained all of my life. I was a breath away from dying and he brought me back."  
"Why did he take your life?" Ronon asked shovelling his food into his mouth.

"He needed my strength to fight the Genii guards and-"  
"You let him?" Mckay interjected.

"No, I didn't _let_ him I-"

"He took it by force?" asked Teyla with a surprised expression.

"And you still let him go?" Mckay looked incredulous.

"No, I…_look_ I told you about our deal….anyway, he gave it back and-"

"You are simply glad to be alive," Teyla finished for him. From previous experience, she knew that Sheppard had difficulty in articulating his feelings. Under the pressure of their questioning, she realised that he needed help and support and not an interrogation.

He turned to her slowly, "Yes exactly."

--------------------

Sheppard awoke suddenly in his bed, slick with sweat, chest tight and aching. It had been a dream. Another inescapable dream.

He'd gone to bed after his dizzying levels of energy had dropped, leaving him exhausted. He imagined it was close to the hypoglycaemic reactions that Mckay suffered from. It was when his high had gone did he really start to feel……everything. Everything was too loud, every sensation wrong and he felt dislocated from his reality.

He reached down, pulled down the top of his t-shirt and ran his fingers over smooth skin. There was no scar, there was no blood. He touched his face, checking the familiar lines, and sighed when he realised he wasn't aged.

He hooked his legs over the edge of the bed, bare feet touching the cold floor and reminding him by sensation that he was alive. He pulled on a pair of sweats, his trainers and left the darkness of his room for the peace of the balcony.

He stood and watched the sea undulate below him, peaceful waves, gently lapping and caressing his city. There was no brutality in its touch, no attempt to damage it. Like Kolya had tried to damage him.

Sheppard rubbed at his face, worked out the tension in his shoulders and then breathed in as much oxygen he could stand. Until his head was dizzy and there were little flashes of light dancing in front of him. He wanted to feel alive.

"John?"

He jumped involuntarily, the past few days, had made him a nervous wreck. "Elizabeth," he said without turning to her.

"Are you okay?" she asked coming to stand beside him. Her arm brushed his and he intentionally side stepped. Contact made his skin crawl. Had done ever since…….

"Couldn't sleep," he admitted hoarsely.

"Have you considered speaking to Heightmeyer?" she said peering over the edge of the balcony and down at the sea.

"I'm not going to," he said not meeting her gaze, "I'm fine."

"Why don't I believe that?" she said.

He swallowed convulsively, nausea gripping his stomach, head throbbing and pulsing as he stood there.

"John, you were fed on by a wraith."

The same old statement. It seemed everybody else had a problem with it. Why couldn't they just accept it and forget it like he could?

"The rest of the team are talking to counsellors. I think maybe-"

"No," the word escaped him in one harsh breath, the force of it taking him by surprise, "I don't want to talk about it."

"I can't force you," she said tapping his arm.

His fingers clenched, knuckles whitening, at the contact. It made him squirm, made him uncomfortable. Made him feel the wraiths hand on his chest, pulling out his life force and leaving him numb.

"Elizabeth," he said quietly.

She removed her hand and folded her arms.

He couldn't get the words out, didn't know what to say. He didn't know how he was feeling; all he knew was that it was beginning to make him feel physically sick.

He didn't want to tell Beckett that ever since he had got back he had been throwing up, that he was plagued by nightmares and phantom chest pains. That physical touch sent shivers running through his body. That he had the shakes continually.

He didn't want to have to admit to Mckay that although he berated him constantly for being scared and weak, he had in fact been terrified the whole time he was with Kolya and that wraith feeding on him had been one of his greatest fears.

He didn't want to tell Teyla that he lacked the strength to kill that wraith. The species she hated beyond all other.

He didn't want Ronon to know that he had felt a modicum of compassion for that wraith. A species that had put implants under his skin and tracked him like an animal.

And he didn't want to tell Elizabeth that he was scared now. Scared of human contact for fear it might give him awful flashbacks. Scared that he would lose control. Scared to admit that it had been a nightmare experience.

Scared to be alive.

His high had worn off, tiredness creeping into his body, aches he hadn't realised he had beginning to hurt his muscles, a headache flaring up at the base of his skull.

"I'm going to go and get some sleep," he said stepping away from the balcony and hoping that Elizabeth couldn't read his weary etched expression.

"Goodnight John."

"Night."

-------------------------------

He got back to his room without seeing anyone and passed his bed and went straight into the bathroom. He pulled his t-shirt off and stood in front of the mirror, staring at his expression and running a hand over his chest. There was no mark there and yet it hurt to touch. His brain wasn't accepting that he was really okay, couldn't connect with series of events that had left him alive. He leant against the wash basin and breathed out heavily.

He could remember the sensation of being fed on with such clarity that his chest burnt and he could feel his energy seeping out of him, control spiralling away with his falling adrenaline levels.

Unexpectedly he suddenly felt dizzy and sick, his hands were shaking and as he swallowed against the rising bile in his throat he knew that he was going to be sick.

He made it to the toilet just in time to watch the meat loaf he had eaten earlier resurface. He heaved continually, his chest straining, his throat burning as he leant awkwardly.

He slammed his hand down onto the edge of the toilet and cursed as another bout, produced watery bile and nothing else.

"Fuck," he whispered quietly as he wiped his mouth.

He slumped across the toilet seat, face resting against his arm, and he groaned.

His body felt like it was shutting down on him. He felt exhausted, his body spent, his stomach cramping spasmodically against a reaction he couldn't stop.

------------------

Mckay approached Sheppard's door and raised an eyebrow when he saw Ronon and Teyla approaching from the other end of the corridor.

"What are you doing here?" he asked leaning against the doorframe in an attempt to look as natural as possible.

"We came to check on the Colonel," said Teyla.

"Me too," said Mckay.

"He's probably sleeping," said Ronon his emotionless voice rumbling through them.

"He won't be sleeping," said Mckay, "With the day he's had, he'll be awake."

Teyla checked her watch and seemed to reconsider, "Perhaps you are right Ronon."

Mckay sighed and knocked on the door loudly, "I know Sheppard. He'll be up. Sheppard!"

There was no answer and Mckay pressed his ear up against the door, "He's awake, I know it" He pulled back and sighed.

It was just then that they heard the sound of retching coming from inside.

They all looked at one another, Mckay bypassed the door controls, and they entered the room together.

Mckay walked straight through to the bathroom and found Sheppard slamming his hand down onto the floor as he dry heaved.

"Are you okay?" Mckay asked as he knelt down next to him, wrinkling up his nose, and placing his hand on Sheppard's shoulder. Sheppard's pain was palpable as he looked up at him, face white as a sheet, eyes watering. He looked down at Mckay's hand and he retracted it.

"I'll call Doctor Beckett," said Teyla leaving quickly.

Sheppard sat down onto the floor when he had finished and Mckay flushed the toilet for him.

His head dropped down and he listed to one side, eyes heavily lidded and closing. Ronon caught him before he could fall and held him up by placing his hand squarely on his chest.

Sheppard's eyes snapped open in an instant and he tried to back away from the hand, his eyes wide and unseeing, his face pallid and sweating. "Get off!" he said scrambling back until he could go no further. He pushed himself between the toilet and the wash basin and held his hands up, "Don't……touch me."

"Sheppard it's okay, its us," said Mckay shooting Ronon a look. "Why did you do that? That's where they fe-" He clamped his mouth shut, "Sheppard. You're on Atlantis."

"No," said Sheppard resting his head down onto his knees, not having the energy to keep his head up, "Go away."

"You're not well Sheppard," Ronon stated crossing his arms over his chest.

"Just leave me to my misery," he groaned into his knees.

"Misery loves company," Mckay offered with a grim smile and reached up for his face cloth, dousing it with cold water and then attempting to get Sheppard to get him to look up.

Sheppard grabbed the cold rag and tossed it to the floor, "Leave me alone. I'm fine, just…..go," he murmured silently.

"I knew you weren't okay," said Mckay.

Beckett entered the room and Mckay moved out of his way so he could get to Sheppard.

"Colonel?" Beckett turned back to the spectators, "What happened?"

Sheppard didn't move.

"We found him vomiting in the toilet," said Mckay closing the toilet lid and sitting on it.

"John?" Beckett gave him a light tap on his hand and Sheppard didn't move.

"This is bad isn't it?" said Mckay.

"John, wake up."

"Why isn't he moving?" asked Ronon.

"He's unconscious," said Beckett. He tapped his radio, "I need a gurney down to Colonel Sheppard's room immediately."

-----------------------

Elizabeth entered the infirmary and found Ronon, Teyla and Mckay all taking up beds while Beckett tended to Sheppard. Sheppard was lying curled up on his side, the covers pulled up to his chin and he was shivering uncontrollably even under the swathes of blankets he had.

"Just leave me alone," he said loudly as Beckett talked to him quietly.

Beckett patted him on the shoulder and walked over to Elizabeth, pulling the privacy curtain as he went.

"Carson, what happened?"

"I should have expected this, I'm sorry," said Beckett dropping his head.

"What?"

"I just got his blood work back. He's got a significant amount of the wraith enzyme working its way through his system. He's suffering from severe withdrawal symptoms."

"Withdrawal?"

"We know that the enzyme is released on feeding and that he was fed on at least three times," said Beckett.

"Four," supplied Teyla.

Beckett looked over to her, "Four?"

"He said the wraith took all of his life at one point," said Mckay from where he was sitting.

"When did you find this out?"

"Over lunch," said Mckay, "You know normal lunch conversation."

"The wraith took more of his life?" Elizabeth asked, "And he still let him go?"

"We already had this conversation," said Mckay with a flick of his hand, "He made a deal." He scowled and shook his head, "He should have killed it."

"I agree," said Ronon.

"Well," Beckett said assimilating the new piece of information and composing himself, "we know that the enzyme is released to aid the feeding process. It would seem that by giving his life _back_ to him a far more significant amount was released into his blood stream and its decreasing levels are causing him to go into withdrawal."

"From being fed on?" Mckay asked, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

"You're sure?" Elizabeth asked.

"It would explain his _high_ when he got back and his sudden decline in health." He paused and wringed his hands together, "I'm afraid we don't know what to expect. You remember what happened with Ford?"

"He got violent," said Teyla.

"Aye." Beckett unconsciously massaged his throat and nodded, "We can expect nausea, vomiting, fever, cold sweats-" he paused and shook his head, "-basically, its going to get worse before it gets better."

_TBC_

_Okay so I'm writing two other fics I know………I'm going to get this one done before the others. This will probably be about three or four chapters long. Not Alone and Painful Reminders will be resumed shortly after. But I'm sure you can all wait……please._

_Please review and give me some motivation._


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you everyone who has reviewed so far………great motivators!_

_---------------------------_

He was lying on his side, curled into a tight ball, hands wrapped around his knees beneath the covers and staring at a point across the room in an attempt to keep his mind focused and his head clear. He was staring at a spot on the wall, it was dark, could have been blood. An old stain, holding his attention, eyes unwavering from it to keep his fragile composure.

Sweat was pouring down his face, stinging his eyes, his teeth were chattering because he was so cold and at the same time stiflingly hot. His stomach was cramping periodically, waves that spread and burnt with every breath he took. He was in pain, didn't admit to it, but by the way that Beckett was hovering over him he knew he sensed it. He didn't want to offend him, but he wanted him to quit his hovering. He almost wished someone else would come in, of course with a minor injury, which could temporarily distract him.

"I can give you something for the pain."

Beckett touched his shoulder and he jumped. His eyes moved away from the spot and his composure shattered, allowing the pain to resurface and the rolling cramps to force him to curl tighter into himself.

"No," Sheppard ground out through his teeth.

"You can't go on like this," Beckett stated looking apologetic for having startled him.

"Can you make the pain go away entirely? Can you stop me feeling like this?" He met Beckett's eyes with a cold hard stare.

"I can make it go away temporarily, but you're going to have to tough this one out."

"Cold turkey," Sheppard muttered as he gripped his stomach.

"I'm afraid so," said Beckett, "There's nothing I could give you that could make this just disappear. Perhaps talking to Rodney would help?"

Sheppard rolled onto his back, straightened his legs under the covers and promptly moved back onto his side. No other position alleviated the pain. His hand reached up to the railing and gripped it with white knuckles, "_Why_ would that help?" Sheppard closed his eyes against a wave of nausea.

"Because he's been through this before," stated Beckett.

"No," said Sheppard, "I don't want to talk to him about this. If you say I have to sweat it out, I will." He groaned and moved his head to the railing, dropping his head down onto his hand with a sigh. He certainly had the sweating part down pat.

"You're going to exhaust yourself and you can't keep this up much longer. Let me get a sedative at least."

"No!" Sheppard shouted and his legs twisted under the covers. His toes curling. He pushed them off him angrily and wiped his perspiring forehead, "No, just leave me alone."

"Colonel, this is going to be hard. You need you're friends around."

"I need to lie here on my own and not have people watching me at my lowest hour."

"Nobody is going to think any different of you. You've been through a traumatic experience and you're body is-"

"_Killing_ me," said Sheppard as he bit his lip. He bolted upright all of a sudden and clamped a hand over his mouth, wrenching the I.V as he did so, "I'm gonna be sick," he mumbled and turned green.

Beckett reached for an emesis pan and handed it to him and watched as Sheppard dry heaved into it. When he had finished he sagged back onto his pillow, fatigued.

"Better?" Beckett asked taking the pan and handing him a glass of water, "Drink it slowly."

"Any idea how long this is going to last?" Sheppard groaned as he rolled onto his side.

"I'm afraid it could last for days. You're body is reacting as if you had stopped taking Heroin. At the moment you're body thinks it needs it to function which is why you're having such a bad reaction, but there's no telling how long this will go on. If we knew what the Enzymes elimination half-life was I might be able to give you a better time frame."

Sheppard sighed and balled the sheets in his fists. Minutes seemed like hours so the prospect that this could go on for days didn't seem like a viable option.

"Isn't there something you could give me to take the edge off?" Sheppard asked.

"Not unless I had some of the wraith enzyme, which I don't."

"Okay," said Sheppard waving a hand dismissively. He pulled the covers over his head and returned to his inner mantra.

"I have to be somewhere but Doctor Adams is here if you need anything. Colonel, if you're in too much pain, I want you to say."

---------------

"Sorry I'm late." Beckett entered Doctor Heightmeyer's office and found Elizabeth, Mckay, Teyla and Ronon all sitting in chairs positioned into a circle. "I had something to attend to."

"Colonel Sheppard?" asked Teyla. She was concerned as they all were.

Beckett sat himself down in a vacant chair and crossed his arms with a heavy sigh, "He's certainly suffering."

"You can't help him?" asked Mckay leaning forward slightly.

"Not at the moment," admitted Beckett, "He's refusing to take medication that could lessen the pain. Says if it's just going to come back he might as well deal with it now."

Heightmeyer cleared her throat, "Well, I'm glad you could make it. I know how busy you are."

"This is important," said Beckett. "And I realise that us having psychological assessments is necessary."

"Remind me why again?" asked Mckay, his jaw was set and tense. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be helping Sheppard in whatever way he could.

"You all witnessed Colonel Sheppard being tortured. I thought a group therapy might be beneficial to you all. I believe that you need to deal with what you saw before you can even begin to help the Colonel. By providing details of you're thoughts and feelings on your shared experience it will help you put any individual feelings you have into perspective." She folded her hands loosely in her lap, "Now I've watched the recording to familiarise myself with what you all saw. It's disturbing stuff to say the least."

"You're telling me," said Beckett.

"So let's start. Why don't you each tell me how you were feeling when you were watching it." She retrieved a pen from her desk and a notepad and flipped it open onto a fresh page. When there was silence she looked up, "Who would like to start?" she scanned their reluctant faces, "Look, I know this is difficult. It's never easy revealing your feelings in front of others but this is the best way for you all to communicate how that video effected you."

She knew that over the past few years the people sitting before her had inevitably grown close because of the situations they often found themselves in. They had all saved each others lives in one way or another. They had grown attuned to each others behaviour patterns and moods. Their obvious reluctance to speak was a product of how deeply the past few days had touched them. "Elizabeth?" She had asked Elizabeth first because she was their leader and she felt that by getting her to talk openly about her feelings would encourage the others to follow.

Elizabeth looked startled and she took in a deep breath before speaking, "It was one of the single most horrific things I have witnessed in my career," she said keeping her eyes downcast, "I've never really seen somebody being fed on before. Especially not somebody I care for deeply." She cleared her throat.

"So you were angry?" asked Heightmeyer. She was keeping her voice low and even and trying to maintain eye contact when she could to solidify her support.

"Absolutely."

"Upset?"

"I don't think I'd be human if I said it didn't," she said with a raised eyebrow.

"You've had first hand experience yourself of Commander Kolya."

She nodded. She didn't provide any further words to convey how she was feeling. She was closing off again, trying to protect herself.

"Doctor Mckay. How did watching that video make you feel?"

Mckay looked up, eyes wide and full of dread. He began to fidget nervously, uncomfortable at the glares coming his way, "What kind of a question is that?" he asked with a sigh, "We're all going to say the same thing. We were all angry, we all felt powerless. We all wanted to go and find him and get him out of there." When Mckay was on his own talking to her, she usually couldn't get him to shut up. He was always open with her, but here surrounded by friends he too was being pensive and trying to avoid her question.

"I expect that's true," said Heightmeyer, "But I'm asking _you_ how _you_ felt. You have become close to Colonel Sheppard over the past few years."

Mckay snorted and leant back in his chair, "I wouldn't say close. We have a mutual respect I guess you could say. He irritates me, I irritate him."

"You know, your feelings of being powerless are to be expected." Heightmeyer reassured him, "And as someone who is often called upon to deal with problems here in Atlantis and off-world its not surprising you would feel that way."

"You shouldn't massage his ego," said Beckett with a small smile.

"Now hang on Carson. She's merely speaking the truth." Mckay said in retaliation. "And you're right," he added, "I couldn't help this time." Admitting that truth sent Mckay back into himself. His face tightened, his lips pursed into a thin line and Heightmeyer could see the guilt residing in his eyes.

Silence shrouded the room again, but it was only momentary and Heightmeyer didn't have to prompt for anyone else to speak.

"It was brutal." Teyla interjected, "The whole process was….." she paused and took a steadying breath, "The fact that Sheppard was gagged and bound; he could not fight back. It was…..one of the worst things I've seen."

"And you've witnessed a lot of feedings," Heightmeyer said.

"Yes," she nodded, "but usually the victims aren't completely powerless. They have the chance to fight back."

"And this bothers you. That he couldn't fight back?"

"It bothers me that Sheppard knew he couldn't fight back. He is a proud man," said Teyla with a small smile.

"You know he'd never tell us it bothered him," said Mckay, "He'd rather keep it all bottled up."

"That's interesting that you feel that way," said Heightmeyer.

"It's not a feeling, it's the truth. He never tells us anything." Mckay snapped back.

"It is true that the Colonel has trouble…..confiding in us," said Teyla.

"And you think this could hinder his recovery?" asked Heightmeyer.

"Of course it will," said Mckay, his voice raising in volume, "He never tells you how he feels about a situation, he hides injuries and.." he paused, "I don't really know anything about him except what I've seen on the surface."

"Sheppard is a private person," Ronon shrugged.

"It is true that Colonel Sheppard has often evaded speaking to me," said Heightmeyer with a nod.

"John just likes to protect the people around him," said Elizabeth in defence.

"He cares for all of us," said Teyla quietly and she found five sets of eyes on her, "When Ronon had been taken he told me…" she paused, unsure whether to break his confidence, "He told me that he cared for all of us and would do anything for us. I believe it is simply his way."

Heightmeyer listened to them speak in turn, what had started off as disjointed and timid had turned into free flowing conversation and an honest expression of their feelings.

"I don't think I will ever stop seeing him like that," admitted Elizabeth her eyes resting on the rest of the team.

"Tell me about it," said Mckay, "Kolya owed him. He could have left him in that pit to die and he let him get out alive."

"He should have killed him," Ronon offered. "The first time they met."

"It's no secret that Kolya had it in for him," said Mckay.

Heightmeyer had written down a plethora of notes and was beginning to understand her patients feelings better. There was one person who hadn't spoken as much as she thought he would.

"Doctor Beckett. Do you have anything to say?"

Beckett had remained quiet while everyone else spoke. He shifted in his seat, obviously preoccupied, "Well, I'm unfortunately used to seeing the people I care about in dire situations, but there's nothing like seeing your worst fears confirmed and not being able to treat them."

Heightmeyer maintained eye contact and he continued, "I knew that if he received another feeding he would die. But," he shook his head, "I'm honestly used to the feeling of powerlessness. There are times when I can do nothing to help a patient and I have to stand back and watch as they deteriorate. " His mind was drifting back to all the times he couldn't help his friends and he sighed.

"Elizabeth. You're the one that had to make a difficult decision. You chose to align yourself with Laden." Heightmeyer was writing as she spoke.

"I had to make a choice. John had ordered us not to comply with his demands, which I of course wanted to do, but we couldn't risk breaking our alliance with Laden and the Genii. He could be a potentially powerful ally."

"You feel guilty?"

"Incredibly," she said twisting her hands, "Its one of the hardest decisions I've had to make but ultimately I knew John would understand. And if I had to make that decision again. I would do the same."

"He does understand," offered Teyla.

"Sheppard's a soldier. He understands that he's expendable," voiced Ronon.

"Aye, that's the problem," said Beckett.

-----------------------

When the session was over Mckay decided to head straight for the infirmary. When he arrived he could hear Sheppard before he saw him. His voice was elevated and whining and as he walked around to the curtained off area he was being kept in he saw why he was annoyed.

A nurse was holding his hands and cutting his fingernails with some scissors. He couldn't help but notice how agitated he was, his legs were continually moving under the sheets and his face was covered with a sheen of sweat.

"What's this?" asked Mckay as he pulled a stool over with his foot, "Your own personal manicure?"

Sheppard shot him a look.

"I'm cutting his nails because he won't stop scratching at his skin," said the nurse as she continued to cut them down.

"It's not my fault that I itch like crazy," said Sheppard. Mckay noticed that his arms were red and blotchy from where he had indeed been scratching. He had a patch on his neck which looked raw to the touch. He looked and sounded thoroughly miserable.

"One more and then you're done," said the nurse.

Sheppard absent-mindly began to scratch at his arms again as she cut the nails on his left hand.

"Colonel, don't make me get you some mittens," warned the nurse with a hint of a smile when she noticed him trying to claw through his skin.

"I _itch_, I'm uncomfortable. Feels like my skin is crawling," he said as he finally got his hand back and crossed his arms.

"I'll be back later. I find one scratch and I'll cut you're fingers off."

"Hey Sara, wanna cut my toe nails too? Paint them? Give me a French manicure?" she disappeared around the corner and he deliberately started to scratch at his skin again. Now his nails were cut though, scratching was proving ineffectual.

"How do you know about French manicures?" asked Mckay as he leant against the bed railing.

"How do _you_?" Sheppard shot at him with an irritated look.

"I _have_ a sister," said Mckay suddenly.

"Oh, I see, so while the rest of us were out partying and having fun as kids, you were getting your nails painted. I bet you looked real pretty."

"Very funny."

They shared a brief uncomfortable look.

"How are you doing?" Mckay asked as tapped his fingers on the railing.

Sheppard rubbed at his neck and clenched his fists, "It feels like I have a _million_ ants crawling under my skin. How are you?"

"Well you're certainly cranky," Mckay shot back.

"Look, I'm sorry Rodney, but I'm not feeling all that good right now and…I…_itch_……everywhere."

"Maybe Beckett has some lotion or something."

"Yeah a _miraculous_ lotion, _that_ will help."

"Really thick with the sarcasm today," said Mckay crossing his arms over his chest.

Sheppard pulled the blanket up to his chin and brought his knees up to his chest to try and get warm.

"How's my patient doing?" Beckett came around the corner.

"He itches," said Mckay.

"Yes my nurse informed me," said Beckett, "You should be nice to her. She'll be changing your I.V line later. The sensation of crawling skin isn't unexpected. Just try not to aggravate your skin too much.

"Hear that Sheppard. No scratching."

Sheppard shot him a look that could kill.

"Do you want anything to eat?" Beckett asked as he looked over his chart.

"No," said Sheppard, "Nothing stays down anyway." He scratched his face unconsciously, "This is driving me _insane_. You know, I remember when I was six and I had chicken pox. My mom would slap my hands every time I reached to scratch one. I swear every time I itch I can feel her slapping me." He slunk down into the bed and lay on his back.

"Well you just need something to take your mind off it," said Beckett, "I'll go and get you something to eat. You can't live on air."

Sheppard held a finger up, "Uh, actually-"

"And I'll keep you preoccupied," said Mckay cutting him off, "hey I bought along some cards."

"Cards?"

"Yes, you know. Cards. They have different numbers, suites and pretty pictures." He said in a patronising tone.

"Fine," Sheppard sat up slowly. His stomach was rolling in waves of nausea and he tried to ignore that and the constant cramping. He felt like he was having a bad bout of the flu coupled with a stunner blast. No two stunner blasts.

Mckay pulled over a table and started to deal the cards, "What do you want to play?"

"Go fish," he supplied.

"Okay, but I'm warning you. I'm really good at this game," said Mckay with a smug look.

"I happen to be _king_ of Go Fish!" said Sheppard, "And if I win, you have to clean my quarters." He leant forward and breathed through more sickness.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," said Sheppard, "Do you have any threes?"

"No, Go Fish!" said Mckay with another smug smile, "Do you have any fives?"

"Damn," said Sheppard handing him two cards, "So where were you earlier?" he asked, "Do you have any eights?"

"No eights, Go Fish," said Mckay, "We kind of had a thing. Any twos?"

"You're cheating," sniped Sheppard as he handed all three over, "What kind of _thing_? Any sevens?"

"Ha," said Mckay, "Go Fish! We had a group therapy."

"You realise you having none of the last three cards I asked for is pretty much statistically impossible," Sheppard said with a slow shake of his head, "Group therapy?"

"Any Kings?" asked Mckay, "Heightmeyer made us. She said our return to normal duty was pending a psychological evaluation."

"No kings," said Sheppard, "So was it about…me?"

"Yeah," said Mckay.

"What did you say?"

"We all said the same, we were angry." He looked up at Sheppard and watched as he licked his lips, "Your go."

"Well I mean….I was angry too," admitted Sheppard, "I don't really-"

"I mean…. it's your go," said Mckay holding up his cards.

"Oh right," said Sheppard with a nod. "Any Aces?" he asked quietly gently rocking to help the pain subside.

"Two," said Mckay handing them over, "Kate thought it would be beneficial to us to talk about it. You realise you'll eventually have to talk to her about it?"

"I know," said Sheppard. "I just need a little time."

Mckay nodded, "Well, you know…uh….we're here." He looked down at his hand, "Any Queens?"

Sheppard suddenly turned pale and dropped his cards, "I uh…I don't want to play this game."

"Oh I see, you're trying to get out of this because you have all the Qu-" Mckay stopped talking and realised why the reference to Queens had spooked Sheppard.

Queens.

Wraith.

--------------------------

When Beckett returned with some food for Sheppard he found him sitting alone and attempting to build a house of cards. He watched for a while as Shepard tried to get two cards to balance against one another. The task seemed impossible as his hands were shaking so much. He finally got two to balance and Sheppard breathed out with a sigh of relief. His outward breath toppled the cards and he shoved the moveable table away, "Stupid game," he muttered as Beckett came over and placed a tray of food in front of him.

"Thought you might want this." He said.

Sheppard looked at the tray with a look of disgust, "I don't think I can eat that. It's turning my stomach." He said as he looked down at the oatmeal.

"I just need you to have a few mouthfuls."

"I don't want it Carson," said Sheppard lying down and holding his stomach.

"I know you're feeling bad, but you need to keep you're strength up."

"I _don't_…_want_ it," said Sheppard.

"Okay," said Beckett as he picked up the tray.

"So, you were all talking about me today?" asked Sheppard as he rolled onto his side.

"Yes," said Beckett.

"You okay?"

Beckett placed the tray onto one of the free beds and walked over to him, "Don't worry about me. You're the one who went through it all."

"Yeah, but I'm okay," said Sheppard, "I'm not exactly new to torture."

"But you're new to having your life sucked out." The words hung in the air and Sheppard nodded, "You should get some rest."

-------------------------------

_The force of the hand slamming into his chest, rocked his body back and into the hard chair, and he felt the excruciating pain as it travelled throughout his body. His life was leaving him, his muscles were loosing mass, his skin was beginning to sag and his energy levels were dropping radically. He could feel himself slipping away with every breath he took and he wondered when his last one would be._

Sheppard snapped his eyes open and sat up in bed, vomiting as soon as he was upright. He wiped his mouth, pulled out his I.V line and pushed aside the covers.

He had to get out of there. He had to move. Had to go somewhere where the wraith wouldn't find him.

He was dizzy, had trouble focusing on the world in front of him and he staggered through the infirmary. He knocked a tray full of instruments onto the floor and it clattered noisily. He didn't hear the sound; it was muted against the constant thrum in his head.

"Colonel Sheppard?" he heard the exclamation as Beckett came out of his office, hair sticking up, day old stubble on his cheeks, "What are you doing out of bed?"

Sheppard didn't want to talk, he wanted to get away and he moved towards the door of the infirmary to get away.

He just _had_ to get away.

Two soldiers came into the room, they must have been passing in the hall and heard the commotion, and Beckett was slightly relieved, "Can you help me get him back into bed?" he asked tiredly.

Sheppard turned slowly, the guards just behind him and he _threw out his hands and rammed them both back against the wall. While he kept one in place he managed to twist one of the guy's arms and propel him forward. The other guy he jabbed him twice in the windpipe and then he reached out for the knife and found it gone…it wasn't there…confused he punched the guy across the face and _staggered out into the hallway. He found a wall and used it to keep upright.

He was incredibly dizzy and his legs went from beneath him before he could take another step. Hands seized his wrists and restrained them against his sides as he struggled for control.

_The Genii guard had secured his hands to the chair and when the wraith fed on him he couldn't get them free._

"Get off!" he shouted.

"Sheppard, it's me Carson. I need you to calm down."

The voice was distorted and he didn't get the message that he was trying to be soothing. He kicked out his legs, felt them connect solidly with flesh, and the tension on his wrists lifted. He got onto his knees and attempted to crawl away.

"Colonel," that voice again was trying to break through to him.

"I need to get out of here," he snapped.

"You're on Atlantis," he heard Beckett say. He leant against the wall and listened as more voices spoke around him, he couldn't tell where they were because he was so dizzy, but they were there.

"_What's going on?"_

"_He's having a psychotic episode. Get me some Haldol."_

Sheppard gripped his stomach and felt it do a somersault. His insides were trying to rebel and he wasn't going to have it. He was sick of feeling nauseous, of having a permanent headache and feeling so incredibly helpless. He was John Sheppard. Commanding Officer of Atlantis and there was no way in hell he was going to allow himself to be passive. He needed to get away.

He was so confused.

"Okay, John, I'm going to give you an injection. You'll feel much better in a minute."

He was breaking out into a cold sweat, even his palms were clammy, and the itching had returned. The infuriating crawling under his skin that made him want to vomit.

"Why can't you leave me alone?" he asked.

----------------------

Beckett was kneeling on the floor and moving closer to Sheppard. His nursing staff were tending to the men that he had just beaten up and Ronon, who had heard the chatter over the radio, had come to stand beside him.

Sheppard was pale and sweating. He was staring forward with unseeing eyes. He was obviously detached from reality. It wasn't an uncommon symptom of withdrawal to suffer delusions.

"Now, just sit tight and-" He couldn't finish his sentence because Sheppard dove forwards and grabbed his wrist. He dug his finger into a pressure point and the hypodermic needle clattered to the floor.

Sheppard punched him in the face and tried to make a break for freedom.

Ronon coolly, un-holstered his weapon and stunned Sheppard in the back. He flopped to the ground, his head connecting on impact, and his arms were lax at his sides.

"Was that really necessary?" asked Beckett from the floor.

Ronon re-holstered his weapon and shrugged. "You okay Doc?" he asked as he helped him up to his feet.

Beckett probed his mouth and tasted blood. He had a possible oral laceration, but it was something he could worry about that later. "I'll be fine. Help me get him up."

They moved over to Sheppard's lifeless form and rolled him onto his back.

_TBC_

_Please review_


	3. Chapter 3

Sheppard opened heavily lidded eyes, collided with pain, which spanned from head to toe, and blinked slowly. Letting his eyes adjust seemed like the least painful thing to do.

As the blurry face above him slowly moved into focus Sheppard could see the light was blocked, a silhouetted body was standing over him, an eerie glow around their form. He saw the outline and panicked, the dreads looked familiarly menacing, the hulking form overbearing and as a hand reached out to touch him, he jolted upright, and moved backwards, the terror overwhelming.

"No!" he called out as the wraith moved towards him, "No, get away!"

"Ronon!" he heard the Scottish voice call out somewhere in the distance.

He blinked several times, looked up at the figure as the light moved and realised his wraith had indeed been Ronon.

"Sorry," he said breathing rapidly and feeling embarrassed, "Sorry, I thought you were "He couldn't get the words out through his constricted throat.

Ronon took a step back, retracting his hand in one fluid movement as Beckett came to stand beside him.

"What happened?" he asked as his hands took up their vice like grip on the railings in a vague effort to ground himself from his pain.

"You had a little episode," Beckett clarified for him, "You were delusional and we had to.." he paused and shot Ronon a look, "Well, I wanted to sedate you but Ronon stunned you."

"You stunned me?" Sheppard asked breathing in and out at a pace that threatened to turn into hyperventilation.

"You were acting crazy," said Ronon with a shrug.

"Yeah, that's me," said Sheppard quietly, "crazy."

"How are you feeling?" asked Beckett as he checked his vitals.

"Like I've been stunned," he said and reached down to his stomach to massage it.

Now he was fully conscious he realised with a sinking feeling that he was feeling no better. He was still feeling sick and shaky and his head ached. He moved back down into the bed and resumed his former position, curled into a ball, and closed his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, he realised that he must have dozed off, because Beckett and Ronon were gone and Heightmeyer was sitting in a chair beside his bed reading.

He moved sluggishly, twisting under the covers to try to get into a more comfortable position. Despite his sleep he still felt exhausted and drained to the bone.

"Colonel," Heightmeyer said on seeing that he was staring up at the ceiling.

"Doctor Heightmeyer," he said in response. He didn't turn to her, just tried to concentrate on keeping himself centred and in control.

"I thought you might like to have that talk now," she said leaning forward in her chair, resting her elbows on her knees and clasping her hands together.

Sheppard rolled away, put his back to her and pulled his knees up, "I'm tired."

"I've spoken to your team mates."

"I heard," he said.

"And now it's your turn."

"I'm okay," he muttered and licked his lips.

"You realise you can't return to active duty until you've spoken about this," she said coolly.

Sheppard moved back to face her, pushing himself up on to his elbow to look her in the eyes, "What do you want me to say?" he asked with a sigh.

"I don't want you to say what you think I need to hear. I just want you to talk about how you're feeling. The truth, Colonel."

He sat up and pulled the covers up to his chest, rearranged his pillows, and sat back, "Fine. Explain to me why I have to do this again?"

"Traumatic events can completely overwhelm the individual's ability to cope or integrate the ideas and emotions involved with that experience. They induce feelings of helplessness in the face of a real or subjective threat to life, bodily integrity, or sanity. There is frequently a violation of the person's familiar ideas about the world, putting the person in a state of extreme confusion and insecurity. It's important that you deal with these issues."

"Well, I think you covered that all very well. That's exactly how I'm feeling, well done Kate." He sunk back into the bed and closed his eyes.

She sighed and watched as the lines around his eyes remained creased and his lips were pursed in an expression of pain. There was no way he could fake sleeping to her.

"Colonel," she said. When she receieved no response she tried again, "John?"

He snapped his eyes open.

"I want to try a therapy with you called Traumatic Incident Reduction," she said. When he failed to comment on it she decided to plough on and let him inteject if he needed to, "It's a form of therapy where the client does all of the work."

He rolled his eyes.

"It would involve you watching the traumatic event and I would offer no interpretations, nor would I give a positive or negative evaluation. I would simply be a facilitator and it would be up to you to tell me what you see and how you feel about it."

"You want me to _watch_ the tape?" he asked uncertainly. She watched a range of emotions go across he face and after a few seconds he managed to reassert composure and close off again.

"Yes," she said with a nod, "Successive run throughs would eliminate any negative thoughts on the event, allowing you to view it from a different persepctive."

"I've got a headache and this isnt really…."

"It has its origins in scientology so-"

He looked critical. "As in Tom Cruise scientology?"

"I see you've been keeping up with the entertainment news."

"Hey," he said, "In my defense, we ran out of reading material a long time ago and its not my fault that female members of staff keep leaving their copies of Cosmopolitan in the movie room."

"Will you at least consider it?"

He could see that she was going to continue to press the issue, so begrudgingly, he answered, "I'll consider it."

----------------------

Elizabeth entered the infirmary to the sounds of retching, interspersed with groaning, and when she walked around the privacy curtain she could see that Sheppard was leaning over the railing and throwing up into a basin that Beckett was holding for him, while a nurse rubbed his back. He looked truly miserable.

When Beckett noticed her standing there, he passed the basin to Sheppard and walked over to join her, steering her away from the unpleasant scene in the process.

"I'm afraid you've come at a bad time," said Beckett quietly.

"I can see that," she said as she heard more sounds from behind the curtain. "Is he okay?"

"He's been vomiting all afternoon."

"It's really that bad?" She narrowed eyes to more nauseating sounds.

"Aye, he's running the risk of becoming severely dehydrated and the cramps don't seem to be getting any better. He's exhausted."

"I thought the Enzyme would be wearing off by now. Rodney seemed to recover fairly quickly."

"I don't know whether it has anything to do with the amount of feedings he had and the enzyme interacting with his body differently but he's not getting better. If I had some of the enzyme, I could wean him off slowly and his recovery might be a bit smoother. As it is, his body can't cope with complete withdrawal." Beckett looked tired and on edge and she wondered how much sleep he had managed to get since Sheppard had returned.

"I can help," They both turned to see Ronon leaning up against the door. Elizabeth wondered just how long he had been listening to their conversation.

"How?" asked Beckett narrowing his eyes.

"I could capture a wraith, bring it back and you could get some of the enzyme." He walked into the room.

"I'm not so sure that's an option," said Elizabeth, "It would be too risky."

"I know a planet," said Ronon, "I could track one easily." She had no doubts in her mind that he could but it still did not sit right with her.

"That may be the case," said Elizabeth, "But we'll leave that until we're desperate."

"Uh, Doctor Beckett?"

The nurse was calling him.

Beckett crossed the infirmary in a few paces to get to Sheppard's bedside and the nurse showed him the emesis basin.

It was coated with blood.

------------------

Elizabeth watched Sheppard as he slept. Even in his sleep, his face was strained and she could tell that he was consumed with pain. She hated seeing him like this. He was always the strong one; lying here, he showed vulnerability that she rarely ever saw.

She nearly jumped when she heard someone clear their throat behind her. She looked over her shoulder and saw Mckay standing there.

"How's he doing?"

"He's been asleep for a while," she said, "But no change."

Mckay walked over to the bed and leant against the railing as Sheppard shifted in his sleep and mumbled something under his breath. "Can you believe how much younger he looks?"

"He didn't look that old before," noted Elizabeth and she wondered how she knew that. How long had she spent staring at his face to know that?

"Only Sheppard could make friends with a wraith."

"He said that?" Elizabeth asked, "That they were….friends?"

"No," said Mckay, "He made a deal and stuck to it for some inane reason."

A comfortable silence settled between them, one borne of familiarity and mutual respect.

"How did it _feel_ Rodney?" she asked leaning on her hand.

Mckay's back stiffened and he turned to her slowly, leaning back against the bed and crossing his arms over his chest, "What?" He tried to look complacent, as if he had no idea as to what she was referring to.

"The Enzyme withdrawal."

Mckay looked down at the floor, "Painful," he said, "It felt like I wasn't really here." Sheppard groaned again and he checked on him before continuing, "I don't really remember much but I can't remember it being this bad."

"It makes no sense," Elizabeth said pulling a chair over for Mckay to sit on, "If the wraith gave him the gift of life, then-"

"Why is it practically killing him?" asked Mckay as he sat down, "I've been asking myself the same thing." He tapped his fingers on his knees unconsciously.

Rodney Mckay was a man who truly had difficulty sitting still.

"Perhaps the ones that get the gift of life need the wraith to administer the enzyme and it keeps them subdued and more compliant to any of their demands," she postulated. "Beckett says he can't discern if there have been any long term effects because he's the first for this to happen to."

Sheppard flung his hand out and it knocked the railing, he jerked awake, eyes staring wildly around the room.

Elizabeth rose quickly from her chair and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, "It's okay John."

"Elizabeth?" he asked in a weak voice.

"You're in Atlantis." She smiled reassuringly, "Go back to sleep."

He looked up at her with sleepy eyes, licked his lips and then settled back onto the pillow, closing his eyes and promptly falling back into his restless sleep. She swept a piece of his hair off his perspiring forehead and then sat back down next to Mckay as if nothing had happened.

They sat in silence for a while; both watching Sheppard's sleeping form, content with the quiet.

Mckay finally broke the silence, "Want a game of Go Fish?" he asked taking the cards out of his pocket and waggling his eyebrows.

Elizabeth watched him perform an overly elaborate shuffling trick with the cards and raised an eyebrow herself, "I can't really remember how to play it," she admitted.

Mckay continued to shuffle the cards, "It's easy," he said and started to deal.

Elizabeth looked back over to Sheppard as he rolled onto his side and decided that taking her mind off him for a bit might be a good thing. She picked up her cards, eyes not really taking them in and said, "Sure."

They had been playing for a good hour, Mckay beating her every time with a self-satisfying grin, when Sheppard awoke suddenly and threw up all over himself.

Elizabeth set about helping him sit up while a nurse ran over and Mckay sped off to go find Beckett. It seemed that Beckett had run the risk of going to his quarters to get a few hours sleep. It was about to be interrupted.

Sheppard was uncoordinated, his eyes moving listlessly around the room, as if he wasn't really there. Numerous attempts to get him to speak had him mumbling incoherently and trying to bat them away.

"John, you have to calm down," said Elizabeth even as he pushed her away. She didn't know what she was doing, was uncertain how to help him, and instead settled for rubbing his back and speaking in a soothing voice. If Sheppard had been fully aware of his actions, she was sure he would mortified with his current state.

"No," he called out, lost in another crippling delusion.

The nurse received a kick to her thigh and he tried to hook his legs over the edge of the bed.

"I'm going to kill him," he shouted loudly.

"John, stop," Elizabeth said skirting around the bed to stop him from moving.

"Kolya!" he called out. He was pulling his I.V line out and staring at the trickle of blood on his hand as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. She realised quickly that in his frame of mind, he wasn't going to listen, and before she could stop him he was pushing himself off the bed.

"Kolya isn't here John," she said.

Beckett ran into the room just as Sheppard dropped down onto the floor, his legs crumbling beneath him. He sat awkwardly, legs bent at an awkward angle, fingers clawing out for purchase.

"Colonel," Beckett reached out for him and Sheppard shrunk back. Beckett looked down at his outstretched hand, his open palm and pulled it back. He noticed that Sheppard was holding one of his hands up to his chest, where the feeding mark had been, trying to protect himself.

"No!" he shouted.

"What's happening?" asked Mckay numbly.

"He's having another episode," said Beckett, "Sara, I need you to get me a sedative and something to calm his stomach. He had a gastrointestinal bleed earlier, this will only make it worse." He directed to Elizabeth and Mckay.

Sheppard was kneeling, his hands wrapped around his stomach as he groaned and rocked to try to alleviate some of the pain. He coughed and gagged, his stomach burning with the abuse it had received, his muscles spent and providing him little energy to move beyond his current position.

"Carson?" Elizabeth asked worriedly.

"Maybe you two should wait outside," suggested Beckett as he kept his eyes focused forward.

"We're staying here," said Mckay, "You can't expect us to leave when he's like this."

"Rodney, you're not helping," Beckett ground out.

"Carson, I'm _not_ leaving." Mckay folded his arms across his chest.

"Make it stop," Sheppard said reaching up to his head. It felt like his brain was going to leak out of his ears and his vision was so fuzzy and blurred it continued to make him sick to his stomach.

"I'll give you something to make it stop." Beckett said reassuringly.

"No," Sheppard said batting his hand away angrily, "Stop the _pain_." He clarified and breathed in deeply, sucking in a lungful of dizzying air.

"Where?" Beckett asked.

"Everywhere," he groaned as he leant against the bed.

"We can't help you. You have to push through it."

"_You_ push through it," Sheppard snapped angrily, "This has been going on for days and it's not getting better. God, it's more painful than when that bastard was _feeding_ on me," he said and arched his back.

"Come on Sheppard," said Mckay, "I thought you had a high pain threshold?"

"Rodney," Beckett warned.

"Hey, if he's in pain and he's telling you, you have to know it's bad. That's all I'm saying," said Mckay defensively.

"If you're not going to help, go away…." Sheppard scrubbed his face, "All of you, just go away and leave me alone."

Elizabeth clamped a hand over her mouth. She couldn't watch the scene in front of her any longer. Sheppard was inconsolable, in tremendous amounts of pain and there seemed no end to it.

Before she had any awareness of what she was doing, she found herself standing out in the hallway, tapping her earpiece and saying, "Ronon. You still want to go off-world?"

_  
TBC _

_REVIEW please…………..okay so I struggled a little so I apologize if it's a little off. I'll go back and edit it at some point…..:)_

_Any mistakes are my own as I have no beta……_


	4. Chapter 4

"How long has he been like that?" Elizabeth asked as she came to stand beside Teyla in the infirmary. Upon entering, she had been surprised to find her standing so far away from Sheppard, but now she could see why.

Sheppard had one hand on the railing, his head resting on top of it; his other hand was clutching his stomach. He was lying in a protective tight ball and was staring down at the floor, unblinking, pale and sighing every now and again in slow aching breaths.

"Since I got here. He won't talk," Teyla informed her quietly. "Have you heard from Ronon?"

"No," said Elizabeth. He'd been gone for two hours now.

"I wish I could have gone with him," Teyla said.

"I know, but Ronon knows what he's doing. At least, I hope he does."

Sheppard blinked, rocked slightly, and then resumed his catatonic stare.

"I do not understand why this has happened," said Teyla.

"He has too much of the enzyme in his body for it to be able to cope. As soon as Beckett can give him some of the enzyme and wean him off it…"she paused, "He'll…. be fine." She was trying to convince herself of that fact but watching him now, she wasn't so sure. She had never seen him look so damaged before and she suspected it was down to feeling unwell and again incapacitated.

"Perhaps you will have more luck getting him to speak," said Teyla and she left with a glance back over her shoulder.

Elizabeth approached Sheppard's bed slowly and hesitantly. She pulled a stool over to the bed and sat down, folding her arms across her chest, and trying to think of something to say. "Hey," she settled on.

He blinked, but continued to stare at a distant point on the floor.

"Ronon will be back soon," she said encouragingly.

He licked his lips and closed his eyes briefly.

"Now come on John. Usually I can't shut you up," she smiled and reached forward to touch his hand. He retracted it from the railing and moved back onto the pillow.

"You can't keep this silent treatment up forever. If you'd just talk-"

"You shouldn't have let Ronon go," he said in a flat voice devoid of emotion.

"I thought you might be angry about that," she nodded, "But I made a judgement call."  
"It was a bad one," he stated holding onto his stomach.

"If he's successful-"  
"_If_," he repeated, "_If_, he's not caught by a wraith and _fed_ on." He finally met her eyes.

"John, we're all worried about you and we want to help. This was the only way I could think to do it."

Sheppard twisted under the covers, his face contorting into an expression of pain. He managed to get it under control and focus past it to speak, "Can you just leave me alone," he said quietly.

Elizabeth stood up, straightened her top, and nodded, "Kate will be in later to speak to you."

"I don't want to talk to Kate," he said.

"You're going to have to."

"I don't _have_ to do anything." He clasped his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. He looked defeated and utterly vulnerable and it convinced her that she had made the right decision. That was, if Ronon returned in one piece.

----------------------------

The IDC was confirmed, the shield was swiftly disabled and Ronon walked through the gate with a wraith dangling over his shoulders. Its arms were hanging limply behind his back, its head was lolled to one side and black blood dripped to the floor as the gate shut down behind him.

He acknowledged the gate room staff and proceeded towards the infirmary with a company of men watching his back.

He was dirty, smeared with blood and sweat and he had a cut above his eye that would need cleaning but he had completed his task and now they could help Sheppard.

---------------------------

Sheppard felt detached from reality and it was surprisingly comforting. He wanted to hide and face his pain alone without having to deal with the scrutiny of his friends. It was bad enough that they had had to watch his torture and ultimate humiliation; he didn't want them to watch him in this state. Beckett had told him that he had had another delusional episode and he could barely remember it. Apparently, he'd been so out of it that he had thrown up all over himself in front of Elizabeth and Rodney and then non succinctly told them all to go away. He was glad he couldn't remember it, that way he could feign ignorance if anyone bought it up.

Even though he had been aware of people coming and going all day he had been too focused on the intense aches shooting up the length of his body that he had been unable to ground his words out. It was only when Elizabeth came to talk to him that his frustration and anger had boiled to the surface. He was feeling guilty; he'd have to apologise at some point but not right now. He figured his debilitating illness meant he could have a welcome respite.

He looked up as somebody pulled his privacy curtain around his bed and then he listened to collective and hurried voices as they passed. He thought he heard Ronon and sat up slowly to try and peer through the curtain.

He heard a door close shut and the voices were cut off.

Curiosity piqued he pushed the covers aside with shaking hands and hooked his legs over the edge of the bed. When his feet had touched the floor, his weakened muscles protested, but after a brief sway he grabbed the I.V pole and began the tentative process of walking.

He pushed the curtain aside and saw that the door at the other end of the infirmary had been sealed shut.

He padded across the floor slowly, taking steadying breathes as he moved and arrived at the door.

-----------------------------

"Where do you want him Doc?" Ronon asked.

"Just over here," said Beckett.

Ronon dropped the dead wraith down onto the waiting gurney and gave it a look of disgust.

"I'm going to need to look at that cut." Beckett glanced back at the door apprehensively.

"You nervous?"

"I don't like having this thing here."

"I'll leave some men with you."

"Not because of me," he said as he snapped some latex gloves on, "Because of the Colonel."

"Last I heard, he was pretty out of it." He rolled his weary shoulders.

Beckett nodded, "Aye, he was." He leant against the bed and looked the wraith up and down. The knot in his gut tightened and he reached for a scalpel. "I need to get this enzyme out and refine it before I can administer it to the Colonel. I'm not entirely sure what dose to-" His words were cut off when he heard the door behind him slide open.

------------------------------

Sheppard palmed the door open and leant against the doorframe as Beckett and Ronon stood in front of the gurney to block his view of whatever was lying on it. He could tell what it was instantly and shuffled into the room.

"Colonel," Beckett's voice cracked and he looked up at Ronon guiltily.

"You made it back alive then?" Sheppard asked Ronon with a fixed stare.

"You should be in bed, come on lets get you-"

"That it?" Sheppard said trying to look between them.

"I'm not so sure it's a good idea that-"

Sheppard cut him off again, "What's wrong Carson? I've seen a wraith before." He walked forward and they moved aside. He swallowed thickly and stood at the side of the bed, looking the wraith up and down.

"Colonel, you should really-"

"-Get back into bed?" Sheppard stated flatly without looking over at the Doctor, "What's wrong? You scared I'm going to freak out or something?" Now he met his eyes and Beckett looked nervous as hell. Uncomfortable even.

"I need to get to work and you need to rest up."

"I'd listen to him," Ronon offered and touched Sheppard's shoulder.

He flinched and took an exaggerated step back, "I can get back to my bed by myself," he informed them coldly. But, he didn't move; his eyes were drawn to the wraith. They settled on its outstretched hand.

He could feel his heart rate increasing and the sweat breaking out across his forehead as memories were plucked out of his consciousness. Memories he had tried to bury deep to protect himself. He felt a pain in his chest, could feel his energy ebbing away, his vision blurring at the edges.

A hand to his wrist had him reeling backwards, towards the door and out of the room.

"Colonel." Beckett warned.

"Carson," Sheppard snapped as he reached out for something to steady himself.

His hands found air and he stumbled over to one of the medical cabinets for purchase. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out against sudden nausea. He just needed to get his breath back and then he'd get back to his bed. But, he wanted to do it alone.

"As soon as I have extracted the enzyme, I'll get it out of here," Beckett assured him.

"Fine, whatever," Sheppard said as he held up a hand to ward them off.

"You need to get back to bed."

"I _need_ to just collect myself." He opened his eyes, "I'm not going to…" His hands were shaking and he couldn't stop them.

"You can't pretend this isn't affecting you," Ronon said.

"How do you know," Sheppard managed to wrestle out of his throat. The pain in his chest was increasing with the resurfacing memories.

The hand clamping down onto his chest. His breath being stolen in one painful exhalation. Stars had danced in his eyes, Kolya's face had been blurry shape in his vision as he had tried to breath, tried to choke out a scream.

"John," Beckett touched his shoulder and he reacted instantly. He pushed him away and staggered backwards a step, the I.V pole clattering to the floor nosily.

"One god damn minute," he shouted, "Just one _minute_ and I'll get back into bed." The force of his words notched up his adrenaline, giving him new fuel to stand straighter, and as it coursed through his body like a much needed drug, he realised the brutal extent of his anger. Anger for being humiliated in front of his friends. Anger at Kolya for saying that it hadn't been personal. Anger for that wraith feeding on him. Anger for letting _that_ same wraith go.

"Sheppard," Ronon's voice was low and warning but it hardly registered.

Sheppard saw red, felt his muscles twitch and he opened his mouth to speak. Nothing came out. He couldn't express his anger verbally. He clenched his hands into fists.

"I'm going to give you something to help you sleep," said Beckett. His voice was reassuring and it wasn't what Sheppard needed. He needed a reason to lash out. He didn't want their suffocating sympathy.

"You could have been captured," Sheppard said and he looked straight at Ronon.

"I wasn't," Ronon said.

"But….." he looked down at the floor and breathed in raggedly, "Pain," he looked down at his hand to see that his I.V had been ripped from his hand. A small rivulet of blood had worked its way down to his knuckle, "I'm going to kill that son of a bitch."

"He's delusional again," Beckett told Ronon as if he wasn't there.

Sheppard looked between the two men, shifting his attention in quick succession back to the floor, "I'm not delusional. I'm thinking straight. I'm _going_ to kill him."

"We both will," Ronon offered.

"No," Sheppard said slowly, "I'm going to do it. He's mine."

Beckett was advancing on him as if he were a cornered animal. He could see the syringe in his hand glinting in the light.

"You're not going to give that to me," Sheppard said.

"I think it will do you some good," said Beckett, "You need to rest."

"_Stop_ telling me what I need to do," his hands were clenched again, "I don't _want_ to sleep. I just wake up in a cold sweat anyway, just let me-" he bent over and gripped his stomach. Nausea, pain and breathlessness all colliding in one crippling assault to his system.

"Colonel."

"Dammit!" He stood straight, twisted and slammed his fist into the nearest glass cabinet. The glass shattered and skittered across the floor at his feet. His fist hurt, his knuckles were glistening with blood, and his shoulder felt bruised and wrenched from the action but this pain was good.

He looked up to see Beckett standing open mouthed, Ronon had taken a step forward and when he turned his heart sank. Heightmeyer and Elizabeth were stood at the other end of the infirmary both wearing shocked expressions.

He licked his lips, sighed dejectedly, and started towards the bed, "I feel better now." He flexed his hand. "I'll lie back down."

_TBC_


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you for all of your reviews. They make me happy and incredibly motivated to write more _

------------------------------

Sheppard awoke from his restless sleep to find Mckay sitting on the stool next to his bed and staring at him. He jolted upright and cradled his injured hand to his chest.

"Are you _trying_ to scare me to death?" He breathed in sharply.

Mckay opened his laptop and looked down at it intently, "Yes, that's _exactly_ what I intended to do." He sighed.

"I object to you _leering_ over me while I sleep," Sheppard moaned.

"I _wasn't_ leering."

"Staring then," Sheppard clarified for him. He sat up in the bed and pulled the covers over his shivering body. His eyes were drawn over to the cabinet he had destroyed and he could see that the glass had been swept up already and all trace of his violent spree was erased.

"I was _not_ staring," Mckay repeated lamely.

"Fine," said Sheppard with a dismissive wave of his hand, "You weren't staring. You were just admiring my face." He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes.

Mckay snapped his laptop closed. He was only pretending he had work anyway.

"Ah you're awake," Beckett said as he entered the infirmary wielding a syringe.

Sheppard crossed his arms over his chest and twisted his legs under the covers. The all over itching and crawling sensation was back with a vengeance.

"Is that the Enzyme?" Mckay asked, standing up to join him.

"Aye."

"Great," Sheppard muttered in a flat voice. He pushed the covers aside and held out his arm for Beckett whilst staring off at some point in the distance.

Beckett and Mckay both shared a look he missed.

Mckay couldn't stop himself and asked what was on both of their minds. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Beckett slapped him on his arm and Sheppard whipped his head around to look at him, "Oh, I don't know Rodney. I was fed on by a wraith. What's up with you?"

"You're playing the sympathy card now?" Mckay put his hands on his hips.

"No."

"Yes you are."

Beckett walked over to Sheppard and began to prep his veins for the injection, all the while trying to keep concentrated on his task as the two men continued to bicker. "This won't take long to take effect and you should start to feel much better."

"Rodney, maybe I'm in a bad mood because I woke up to find you staring at me."

"I wasn't staring. I was just making sure you were still alive."

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere," Sheppard ground out as Beckett injected the contents of the syringe in one practiced move.

"You've been in a mood since you got back and.." he held up an accusatory finger, "You haven't talked about what happened to you."

"Does that bother you?" he asked as he felt a flood of warmth flow through his veins. He felt momentarily dizzy as the itching, the pain and his persistent headache dissipated.

"It bothers me that it's all pent up. We had to talk to Kate."

"Oh, so because you had to, I have to. Are you like twelve or something?" He blinked slowly as his surroundings came into focus. The colours looked a little brighter to his eyes.

"You punched that cabinet earlier." Mckay gestured to it wildly.

"At least I didn't _hit_ a person."

"It shows that _you_ have issues."

"Are you feeling any pain? Nausea?" Beckett interjected forcibly as he disposed of the empty syringe.

"Fine," Sheppard snapped at him without looking him in the eye, "I feel great." He paused, "Great," he said in a slightly slurred voice.

"You need to talk about it. You were fed on by a wraith," Mckay's face was turning an unnatural shade of red as he continued to vent.

Sheppard made eye contact and didn't speak.

They were locked in a non verbal stand off and Sheppard finally broke it.

By giggling.

"_What_?" Mckay asked turning to Beckett.

Sheppard continued to laugh and he shook his head, "I'm fine," he said as he tried to stifle more erupting laughter. It was bubbling inside and he shook as he tried to push it back down.

"Why are you laughing?" Mckay asked folding his arms across his chest.

Sheppard shook his head, "I have _no_ idea," he laughed loudly and rolled onto his side, eyes watering, hands gripping the railing.

"Carson?"

"It's the enzyme. It'll take a few hours for his system to metabolise it and level out."

"So…… he's high?" Mckay said with a look of surprise.

Sheppard continued to chuckle and he said in a dreamy voice, "I'm high," he clutched his stomach, "High," he slouched down in his bed and gripped the covers, "As a Jumper."

"Make. It. Stop," Mckay asked desperately.  
"I can't," said Beckett, "At least he's happy." He tilted his head to the side as he watched Sheppard.  
"He's drugged," Mckay shot back at him.

"Wow," Sheppard said managing to get his laughter under control, "It's like…" he was looking up at the lights "Its like a _rainbow_." He smiled and closed his eyes, "Pretty."

"Carson."

"Give it a few hours and he'll be fine. I'm still experimenting with the dose."

"Experimenting?" Mckay sighed, "So, it is voodoo you practice."

"This is to be expected. The enzyme is assaulting his system _like_ a drug. I'll notch down the dose with each injection." He patted Mckay on the arm, "He'll be fine."

"We were arguing. I can't even carry on a conversation with him while he's like this."

"Rodney," Beckett warned.

"I _don't_ want to argue," Sheppard announced sitting up in the bed. He stared at Mckay intently. "I…"

"Don't say it," said Mckay as he covered his face with his hand.

"I love you Rodney. Even if you were staring at me."

"I wasn't-"

"He _was_ Carson," he said giggling again.

"This is _so_ wrong."

"I love you too Carson. I love you all. I love Atlantis. I love-"  
"Do you love Kolya?" Mckay asked walking over to the bed and clamping his hands around the railing.

"Rodney," Beckett said jabbing him the side, "Are you completely insensitive?"

"Hey, he needs to wake up and deal with this. We're having too."

Sheppard stopped laughing, thought about the question, and then made a raspberry sound as he exploded into a fit of hilarity again, "Kol-ya. What a stupid name. Kol-ya. Koool-yaaaa. It's like Koala. Ko-aaala. Coo-la."

"Like I said. Give him a couple of hours and _then_ I would appreciate it if you could take him for some lunch."

"Take him to the commissary…like this?" He indicated to where Sheppard was staring up at the ceiling with a smile plastered across his face.

"Its only this initial dose which is causing his euphoric like reaction. Any subsequent reduced dosed wont affect him as much and as I said Rodney, it will shortly be metabolised and his system will level out. The exercise would be good for him."

"I thought people were supposed to be all mellow when they were drugged," said Mckay with a shake of his head.

"The lunch time rush will be over in an hour." Beckett chuckled and left Mckay to his patient.

"Fine," Mckay said as he uncrossed his arms.

"Fine," Sheppard mimicked and exploded into raucous laughter again.

-----------------------

"You go and sit down at a table and I'll bring you your food. Don't move, don't talk to anyone and just look……sane."

Sheppard sighed and walked over to one of the vacant tables as Mckay went to get him some food.

He returned minutes later, placing a tray in front of him and sitting opposite.

Sheppard picked up the cutlery and tapped it on the table as he looked over his tray. Mckay, he noticed, had two desserts, one of them being _his_ allocated dessert. On his tray was a bland looking meal, definitely no dessert, and a box of juice.

As he tapped the cutlery he could see Mckay getting irritated and in a bid to further that annoyance he broke into a drum solo, tapping the cutlery in a well timed rhythm.

"Are _you_ still high?" Mckay asked.

Sheppard smiled and stopped his improvised instrumental, "No." he said, "I'm fine."

He tapped his cutlery again, "Just thought this place could use some music." He was shocked when somebody behind him started to tap their cutlery, joining in him in his musical. He raised an eyebrow and smiled as Mckay sank back into his seat.

After a few beats somebody else was clinking their fork on the side of their glass, elsewhere someone was using a tray as a drum, another person was stamping their foot on the ground and music filled the commissary. Sheppard drummed his cutlery as he watched people in the room starting to dance and-

"Sheppard?"

Sheppard looked up from his internal reverie and watched as Mckay put a tray of food in front of him and pulled a chair over to sit opposite him.

"Oh my god, are you still high?"

Sheppard looked over his shoulder to see that the commissary was near empty and silent. Everything that had just happened had been in his mind. "I'm fine," he said with a small embarrassed smile.

Mckay narrowed his eyes; "You were…… drumming your hands on the table."

"I was…occupying myself until you came back."  
"Oh," said Mckay delving into his mash, "Because it looked like you were playing the drums. "

Sheppard looked down at his tray to avert his gaze.

"Oh, by the way, you have an appointment with Kate at four."

Sheppard checked his watch. It was one o clock. "Carson?"

"Yep," said Mckay as he talked through a mouthful of food, "He thought that while you were feeling well enough it wouldn't be a bad idea to get some things off your chest."

"I don't want to talk to her," Sheppard said as he poked his food.

"Neither did I." Mckay mumbled as he watched Sheppard from across the table.

----------------------

Sheppard knocked on the door to Heightmeyer's office and waited for her to call him in before entering. When the door had slid shut behind him, he realised that he was trapped and he was going to be forced to deal with his ordeal. The enzyme he had been given had notched down, reaching familiar levels where his fingers twitched again and the odd pain crept up his abused limbs.

"Why don't you take a seat Colonel?"

He sat stiffly, perched at the edge of the seat, uncomfortable and ready to run.

"I'm glad to see you looking better," she said as she opened a notepad and flipped it over to a clean page. She balanced her pen between her fingers as she spoke in a voice that exuded calm and caring.

"Well, as you know, I didn't make this appointment."

"I'm glad Doctor Beckett did," she said.

"So," he said clasping his hands together and twisting them just for something to do.

"Do you remember what we spoke about last time?"

"Traumatic incident something or other," he said as his eyes strayed unwillingly towards the window.

"Traumatic incident reduction," she clarified for him.

"You want me to watch the video feed and assess myself."

"You were listening?" she said in a surprised tone.

He shrugged and cracked his fingers on his good hand.

"We haven't spoken very often. Where your other team-mates have willingly been open with me, you have always maintained a distance. I get it," she said, "You don't like talking. You don't like answering questions. So, I simply want you to watch the video. You can comment where you feel necessary and I will just sit and facilitate."

"And then I can go?"

"Yes. But I want you to have at least three of these sessions with me."

He sighed, "Okay." It sounded simple enough. Watch the video and get out. He could do that. He already knew what was coming up. He'd been there after all. Easy.

Heightmeyer stood up in one fluid motion and indicated to a screen that was hooked up to Sheppard's left. He moved his chair around to face it as she clicked a button and the screen fuzzed to life.

She passed him a remote, "You can forward, rewind and pause whenever you like."

"All I need is my popcorn," he joked as she sat back behind her desk.

Sheppard watched as the screen juddered and then a grainy image confronted him. It was Kolya, standing in front of the camera.

He was sitting behind him, bound and gagged on a chair. He figured that it must have been a fairly dramatic reveal.

He felt the initial surge of anger creep through his veins as he watch Kolya coldly speak. He could remember with sickening clarity what he said.

"Bastard," he muttered under his breath.

He heard Heightmeyer scribbled something down on the pad behind him.

Kolya stood aside to reveal him. Definitely dramatic. There he was.

He'd never considered what he looked like from this perspective before. He was sitting up straight in the chair, a gag around his mouth, hands tied behind his back and he was staring forward. At the time, he remembered that portraying this outward composure was incredibly important because of his team who he knew would be watching. He didn't want them to see him scared, injured or having second thoughts.

Thank god, he had been gagged because it was hiding the grimace he was wearing from the pain shooting up the back of his shoulders from where he had been roughly dragged to the ground by the harpoon.

"That's me," Sheppard said pointing to the screen with the remote, "Its right what they say about the camera. Adds pounds." He'd intended to smile, but it died on his lips. This wasn't funny.

"Was Ladon here the first time?" he asked glancing over his shoulder at Heightmeyer.

"I believe so."

Sheppard nodded and returned his eyes back to the screen.

"_On my command authority, whatever he asks don't do it!"_

"_Well as you can see he's his usual charming self."_

"Smug bastard."

There was more scribbling behind him from Heightmeyer.

There was back and forth chat between Kolya and Elizabeth as he recalled. Then Kolya turned back to him_, "Allow me to help expedite that decision."_

Sheppard sighed, "I don't see the point in watching this. I know what happens in this movie." He knew that his point was futile. He was getting worked up watching the video, it was eliciting reactions from him and that's exactly why Heightmeyer wanted him to watch it.

"Colonel, you agreed to give it a go. If you want to stop it, then I guess that's your decision."

She was trying to use reverse psychology on him. It was working. Turning it off at this point would only prove her point that he had unresolved issues. He didn't want to give her ammunition.

Sheppard focused on the screen. He could feel his adrenaline levels amp up. He knew what was coming. His palms were sweating and he was feeling dizzy and sick.

He watched as the wraith was brought in, made to stand in front of him. He had thought when he was there that he had managed to control his fear, but watching the video feed now he could see that his eyes were wide and his breathing had obviously increased because his chest was rising and falling in quick succession. He looked terrified.

He glanced back at Heightmeyer and then back to the screen.

It seemed like an eternity before what he knew was coming arrived. He watched as the wraith clamped his hand down onto his chest and he was fed upon.

He grimaced and unconsciously rubbed at his chest.

He remembered the pain with startling clarity, the way it had snatched his breath. On the video, he snapped his head back, eyes wide in horror, a strained sound escaping his lips. Sheppard tried to avert his eyes from what he was confronted with, but some part of his stubborn mind kept his eyes locked in place.

"Shit," he muttered and reached for the remote, clamouring for the pause button.

He finally hit it and looked up to where he had paused it.

A close up on his face. Defeated, aged and in obvious excruciating pain.

"How do you turn this off?" he said as he fumbled with the controls, "Where's the…" his vision was blurred and he couldn't see the off button. "I can't find the-"

The next thing he knew, Heightmeyer was up from her seat and turning the video off at the screen.

The screen went black and Sheppard shot up from his seat, swiping a hand through his hair and panting in and out heavily.

"Are you okay?" Heightmeyer asked.

He paced in tight circles, his hands up behind his head and his eyes half closed, "I'm…fine," he gritted out as the pain in his chest swelled.

"Do you want to sit down?"  
"No," he said stopping dead, "No, I…uh…I think its time for my next dose. Carson said I had to get it ….at …..some point." He couldn't remember when he had said exactly, his mind had gone blank and self preservation was informing him to run.

"I think you've seen enough for today," Heightmeyer educated him in a soothing voice.

"Yeah," he said with a deflated sigh, "yeah, I think I have."

"Will you come back tomorrow?"

Sheppard's mind was filled with the vision of him being fed on and he couldn't shake it. That's what his friends had _seen_. "Uhh," he tried to coordinate his exhausted thoughts and leant on the chair to steady himself, "I….uh," If he fought her, he'd be there all day. If he said yes, he could escape right now. "Yeah," he said with an uncertain nod, "Whatever. That's…fine," he mumbled as he headed for the door.

He thought he'd looked under control when he was sat in that chair. Thought he looked composed and sure of himself. In command.

Now he wasn't so sure.

When he left Heightmeyer's office he walked down the corridor with nothing more than a need to keep moving, to keep going until his mind had worked that image out. He rounded a corner, the corridor was empty, and he allowed himself to sink to his knees.

_TBC_


	6. Chapter 6

_Okay so you've made it to the last chapter. I could go on with this forever but I've decided to wrap it up. Yes, I have made an executive decision._

_I have loads of stories written and unfinished (Which I will finish), RL is beginning to be pain, I'm moving and looking for a new job etc. So, here it is…I hope you enjoy. And if anyone thinks it was lacking maybe I could insert some scenes at a later date._

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The coffee was cooling in his hands. The once billowing steam had dissipated to an exhausted wisp. Sheppard sighed, untangled his fingers from the mug and pushed his chair back to stretch. Removing the tension from his aching body wasn't easy and as he let his arms drop back down onto the table, he rotated his left arm to look at the track marks in the crook of his elbow. The firm evidence that he was still battling with withdrawal. Still fighting an internal war.

The commissary was quiet. It was late and only a handful of staff meandered in to collect forgotten meals before heading back to their respective work stations. Life was moving on. He wasn't able to.

Four doses of the enzyme, three sessions with Heightmeyer and _still_ he didn't know what she wanted from him.

By nature and instinct, he felt conditioned not to like psychologists. Heightmeyer hadn't been in that room when he was fed on and in his mind, there was no way that she could, nor was entitled to, connect with him. She kept telling him that he wasn't seeing the reality of his situation, that he was focusing on his friends reactions and not on his own too much.

He sighed again and swigged some of the coffee, swilling it around in his mouth, before swallowing it.

He didn't like to talk about the things that really bothered him. He preferred to push them down. He was caught, he was rescued and he was returned to his old self. As far as he was concerned he could move on. He didn't understand why he had to continue watching those videos of him getting fed on. He'd been there the first time after all. He'd felt those sensations, had time in his cell to come to terms with what was happening to him, and he had now arrived back at Atlantis wanting to move on. Nobody would let him. Somehow they kept dragging him back into the fray.

Both of his viewings of the video had followed a similar pattern. He'd sat down, watched them, made comments and then left at the end.

"_Colonel. This time, I want you to focus on yourself. I want you to really look at you." She'd smiled at him and indicated for him to switch on the video as if he were going to watch a football game. She truly didn't understand._

Sheppard rolled his shoulders, feeling weariness permeate his bones, and yet his muscles were taught and tense. He knew that Beckett would be expecting him in the infirmary but he wasn't ready to face him yet. He'd wait for the call to come over the tanoy before he got up.

_His whole body was tense. His neck hurt, his jaw was aching from persistently clenching it, his throat felt constricted and dry and his vision was hazing as he watched the feed play out before him._

_There was a pain in his chest, radiating from the feed mark and out into his extremities. He knew it was phantom pain and that it wasn't real, but it still didn't make it any less genuine._

"_I don't know what you want from me," he'd said suddenly. Words escaping his mouth before he could stop himself, body twisting around to face her._

"_Colonel. This is about you and your acceptance of what-"  
"Of what happened to me," he'd finished for her, "I have accepted it. Everyone else here hasn't."_

_Heightmeyer had looked hurt, he'd felt like an ass for his outburst, but nonetheless, it was the truth. He was sick and tired of being pushed, prodded and coerced into a breakdown._

_He'd stood up, thrown the remote at the screen, triggering it to turn on and show him the feed again and his agonising expression._

"_Colonel."_

"_What?" he'd shouted, "Look, I'm not doing this anymore."_

"_You need to stop focusing on how everybody else felt about this and concentrate on yourself."_

"_I'm…..fine," he'd enunciated for her._

"_Perhaps we should continue this at another time."_

"_No," he'd said as he walked over to the door, "Shrink everyone else and leave me the hell alone."_

Sheppard scrubbed a hand through his hair. He regretted the way he had spoken to her, but he certainly didn't regret the sentiment.

"Would Colonel Sheppard please report to the infirmary?"

Sheppard sighed and got up.

---------------------------------

"You're late." Beckett said without even turning to him. He was holding an x-ray up to a light box and was inspecting it with an absorbed expression.

Sheppard walked over to his infirmary bed, hopped up onto it with forced enthusiasm and then started to pull his boots off, "Sorry." He dropped his boots onto the floor and leant back on the bed. He stared at Beckett's back for a further few minutes, sensing restrained anger and tension in his body language, "What you got there?"

Beckett turned off the light at the wall, placed the x-ray into a folder and walked over to him with an edge of fatigue, "It's Ronon's. He broke a couple of ribs fighting with the wraith he brought back and _obviously_ he's been spending way too much time with you because he didn't tell me about it."

"What can I say? I'm a bad influence. Where is he?"

"His quarters. Resting I hope."

Silence passed between them, uncomfortable, heavy and Sheppard broke it.

"Have you spoken to Kate?" He wanted to ignore the whole issue but something told him that Beckett already knew.

"Aye."

"And?"

"She told me that you don't want to continue your therapy with her."

Sheppard nodded and held out his arm for Beckett to give him his next injection. The withdrawal was still noticeable. The closer it came to his injection the more tired and achy he felt. The nausea returned, the throbbing headache reappeared and the shaking in his hands became more pronounced.

"I said you'd go back and see her once your treatment was over."

"I'm not going back Carson," Sheppard informed him. He winced when the needle punctured his skin and made a similar face when it was retracted. Beckett placed a swab over the droplet of blood that surfaced.

"I can't force you," said Beckett. He placed both of his hands in his pocket and sighed heavily, "I'm going to go and catch some sleep. I'll be in my office if you need me." He started to walk away and it occurred to Sheppard that Beckett looked more than tired.

"Doc, you okay?"

Beckett chuckled softly and said with his back turned to him, "I wish I could ask you the same." He disappeared into his office, closing the door, shutting off the lines of communication.

-------------------------------

He felt suffocated. The air was thick and his lungs were ineffective in dragging in enough oxygen to breathe. Struggling was futile. He was locked in place, pain ebbing and flowing like the tides. He'd resurface long enough to get violently pulled back into the riptide. His heart was hammering on the inside of his ribcage, testing its construction, trying to claw its way out of his bruised and battered chest. He strained to get air, eyes blinking, watering, tears streaking down his face. The pain was too much, his life was draining away, his hands were bound, muscles reflexively tensing and aching. He couldn't move. He was choking. He needed air. Needed to breathe. The pain. Burning white hot pain that refused to let him go. God it hurt. Hurt to be alive, he needed to get out, to break free. Cold eyes staring at him. He had to get away, had to-

"Nooo!" Sheppard shot up in his bed, drenched in sweat, and clasped a hand over his mouth as a sudden nausea swelled in his gut.

He clambered out of the bed, twisted covers grasping onto him, pulling him back.

The riptide.

He staggered forward, dropped to his knees and found a basin put in front of his face just as he vomited violently.

He slammed his fist down onto the floor repeatedly, all the while cursing his continuing weakness. The drug was working slowly.

He just wanted everything to return to normal.

On hands and knees, sweat being cooled by the chilly air, he took in a choked breath that threatened to fuel new nausea. He dropped down onto his elbows and shoved his hands into his hair.

"Its okay," he heard the Scottish voice tell him and then pat him on the back.

Sheppard managed to lift his heavy head and look into Beckett's warm eyes.

"Do you all want me to break down?" he asked as he managed to recapture his breath.

Beckett narrowed his eyes, his mask of professionalism slipping as he looked at his friend.

"It's not going to happen," he forced out.

Beckett didn't know how to respond. He looked up at the light streaming into the infirmary, confirming that it was morning and removed the basin from under Sheppard. "It's time for your next dose."

Sheppard straightened up onto his knees and noted that he was still dressed in his uniform. It clung to his back and legs. He was insufferably hot again. Withdrawal was indeed a bitch.

"Bad dream?" Beckett asked as he helped Sheppard stand and wobble back over to the bed.

"You could say that," Sheppard said as he pulled himself back onto the bed. He leant back, exhaustion stealing his strength, and closed his eyes, "That _damn_ wraith," he provided with a tentative shake of his head. It was one of those headaches that pulsed and throbbed. Not quite a hangover headache, but a sluggish, I slept too long headache.

"I don't think any of us have been sleeping that well," Beckett admitted. He ran a hand along the stubble of his chin.

Sheppard met his eyes and licked his lips, "I'm okay."

Beckett didn't believe him. It was obvious, but he didn't have the energy to convince him. He'd managed to maintain control even when the situation looked dire. He thought back to the iratus bug, his conversion into one of those bugs, the number of times he had been faced with certain death. He was fine. Why couldn't they see it?

---------------------------------------

Elizabeth closed the door to her office and returned to sit behind her desk. She leant forward, clasped her hands together, and waited for Heightmeyer to speak. Beckett was sitting back in his own chair.

"I wanted to talk to you both because I'm concerned about Colonel Sheppard," Heightmeyer stated in an even voice.

"You don't think he's ready to return to duty?" Elizabeth asked sharing a look with Beckett.

"No," she said, "He has been unwilling to talk about what happened to him."

"The Colonel's going through a tough time," Beckett defended. He knew that Sheppard had to talk, he just wasn't so sure that pushing him into doing so was now such a good idea.

"It's not healthy for him to continue to evade what happened."

"But he was attending your sessions?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yes. I can't tell you too much of what happened, but I can tell you that his focus wasn't on himself. In fact, each session I had with him centred on your reactions, rather than his own feelings."

--------------------------------

Sheppard walked into the gate room for the first time since coming back and cast his eyes over the work stations and personnel situated behind them. He didn't know if he was being unduly paranoid, but it felt as though all eyes were locked onto him. He chewed his lip and tried to look as though he hadn't noticed.

He smiled as he walked over to one of the gate technicians and leant against the work station casually, "Hey, so…what have I missed?"

The gate technician, who he thought was called Chuck, looked up at him with wide eyes, "Uh, not much….Sir," he said and returned his eyes back down to his work quickly as if he was sporting two heads.

"Right. Nothing exciting," Sheppard asked.

"Nope."

"Okay," said Sheppard and he took a step back.

Surreptitious glances were directed at him and he was beginning to feel a bit like a bug under a microscope.

He looked over to the wall where he knew the transmission would have come through and realised that everybody in this room would have witnessed his torture. It filled with a sudden sense of dread and he found his breathing increasing. The gate technician would have seen it and it explained his odd behaviour towards him.

-------------------------

"I'm worried, that if he doesn't talk about this, he'll have some kind of breakdown," Heightmeyer clarified for them.

"John, doesn't usually talk about what's bothering him," Elizabeth admitted, "Perhaps we should give him some time." She was fraught with an inexplicable guilt and was beginning to feel uncomfortable about discussing Sheppard without him knowing. It felt like she was betraying him.

"What if this trauma manifests itself later on down the line? When he's on a mission? He could endanger his team's lives. Post traumatic stress shouldn't be ruled out at this point."

"The Colonel would never endanger his team." Beckett said, shooting Elizabeth a look.

"I agree," said Elizabeth.

"If the SGC find out that he hasn't sought sufficient treatment, they might be forced to recall him and enforce their own line of questioning. I don't want to subject him to that. Colonel Sheppard has proven himself to be strong but…this time I'm not so sure if he can just brush this off."

--------------------------

The quick breathing and dizziness felt awfully like an anxiety attack and Sheppard had to reach out for a console to steady himself. His deteriorating state was drawing even more attention now and he tried to fasten a smile onto his face, tried to look as casual as he possibly could.

He walked over to the screen where the transmission would have come in and focused his attention on it.

_The wraith moved his hand over his chest, sought out eye contact, looked over to Kolya for confirmation that he could feed._

Sheppard swallowed against bile.

_The initial impact of the hand on his chest was as clear as when it happened. Excruciating pain._

"Sir, are you okay?" he heard somebody ask him. The voice sounded distant.

---------------------------

"I'm starting to think that forcing him to speak isn't such a good idea," Beckett said.

Heightmeyer turned to him and narrowed her eyes.

"Because that's what we're doing," he said with a sigh, "And if I was in his position, I'd probably want some time to deal with it on my own."

"You agreed before that he needed to talk," said Heightmeyer.

"I know. But having witnessed his deteriorating health since he started talking to you. I think we should leave him to deal with it alone. If it becomes apparent that he's not dealing with it, then we can intervene."

Heightmeyer turned back to Elizabeth. "Doctor Weir?"

Elizabeth shook her head and pushed a fallen strand of hair behind her ear, "I really don't know."

"I don't think we made the right decision," said Beckett.

"His physical illness could be the manifestation of psychological illness. Talking might help."

"He's ill because of the withdrawal from the Enzyme," said Beckett.

"I really don't-"

The sound of commotion forced Heightmeyer to stop speaking and whatever she was about to say died on her tongue. She whipped her head around to the door as Beckett and Elizabeth jumped out of their seats and saw what was going on beyond the confines of the office.

----------------------

"I'm _fine_," Sheppard near screamed, "Just leave me alone."

He held his hand out and stood straighter and watched as Beckett and Elizabeth barrelled out of her office and towards him.

Elizabeth was first to reach him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder and speaking in a soothing voice, "John, maybe you should come and sit in my office where we can talk."

He moved away from her, "I don't need to talk okay. That's all you want me to do and I don't want to talk about it." He rubbed at his face, "Look, I just want to get cleared for duty. I need to get back to work."

"John," Elizabeth said in a whisper. She was aware that people were staring.

"No," he said firmly, "I'm not going to talk to Heightmeyer. I'm not going to talk, full stop. Kolya used me to get Ladon. That's it. And yeah, I was fed on. Okay, hurt like a bitch, wasn't pleasant, but I'm okay now. The enzyme is working, I feel much better, So you can all stop trying to get me to _talk_."

"Colonel," Heightmeyer came to stand beside Elizabeth.

"Of all the times for you all to get concerned," he said with a put upon sigh, "I died before and I was fine, I got……turned into a mutated bug, I killed sixty genii soldiers, I gave the order to kill those wraith back on the planet," he shouted, "I've been through all of that and I'm _fine_. What makes you think that being fed on by a wraith is any different. I'm a soldier. I do what I have to do so that you.." he said sweeping his hand in the direction of the staring personnel, "_all_ of you, can survive. That's why I'm here."

"But your not expendable," said Beckett.

"I am expendable."

"John."  
"No, I'm going to get my last dose of the enzyme today and then I'm going to return to work. That's the end of it. If you still all have issues then talk to Kate."

He stormed out.

--------------------------------

Sheppard got back to his room and paced back and forth, arms crossed defensively and head down. Why couldn't they just understand that he didn't need to talk about these things? Why couldn't they understand that it was by not talking about certain things that he actually managed to get up in the morning? If he dwelt on every bad thing he had done or said he'd be a nervous bumbling wreck. He'd be in a white padded cell with a straight jacket. No, they just couldn't handle the fact that he was well adjusted, adept at locking away everything which might interfere with his job.

There was a knock at his door and he sighed before walking over to his bed and dropping onto it.

"Go away," he said in a flat voice.

"Colonel, open this door." It was Mckay.

"I don't want to see anybody right now," he shouted.

There was silence. He thought maybe Mckay had given up. But then his door slid open and Mckay and Beckett walked into his room.

"I just told you-"

Mckay sat down in the chair next to his bed, "Carson used his medical override."

Beckett leant against Sheppard's desk and gave him an apologetic look.

"What do you want?" Sheppard asked. He lay back onto his bed and draped his arm across his face to block out their stares and the light.

"Well, I hear you just went nuts in the gate room," Mckay provided. Sheppard could hear the crinkling of a wrapper and he pulled his arm up just enough to see that Mckay was eating a power bar. He smiled softly and then pushed himself up to sit.

"I didn't go nuts."

"Yeah right," Mckay snorted as he continued to eat, "What is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" Sheppard asked.

"Yes, what's wrong with you?" said Mckay as he popped the last bit of the bar into his mouth and chewed loudly.

"Guys, look. I don't know how to break it to you, but I'm actually okay." He looked between the two men and rested his elbows on his knees, palms open. He knew that he was conveying open body language and it wasn't by mistake. He wanted them to believe that he was fine.

"Colonel, you seem anything but fine," Beckett said in a quiet voice.

"You want me to talk?" Sheppard asked. He chewed his lip thoughtfully and then sighed, "Fine. I'll talk."

"Really?" Mckay said in a surprised tone.

"On one condition."

"What?" Beckett asked curiosity piqued.

"That you actually listen to what I have to say."

"We can do that," said Mckay with a wave of his hand.

Beckett walked over to Sheppard bed and sat on it as Sheppard pushed himself back to sit against the wall.

"Okay," Sheppard began. Again, palms showing, eyes connecting with theirs, unblinking, face neutral. "When Kolya captured me. When I was in that cell. I had a lot of time to think about my situation. To prepare myself for each feed."

He watched as Beckett and Mckay grew nervous, their demeanours changing.

"Being fed on was painful. Hurt like nothing you've ever experienced and-"

"Uh, I was shot in the ass by an arrow," Mckay said raising a finger pointedly, "Now that hurt."

"Rodney," Beckett warned.

"Oh, right. Sorry, do continue."

"Yeah I was angry, yeah I was shit scared at times but I always knew I'd get out of it. Dead or alive, you know?" He took a deep breath, "But I didn't give up hope that you would come and get me out. Okay, so you were a little late, but it's the thought that counts right? Thing is……..when all's said and done, I was given another chance by that wraith, I don't know why or how, but I got it."

"Yeah and years younger by the look of it," Mckay snarked.

"I just don't want to think about what happened to me okay. I am truly fine. I got my second chance, I don't want to spend the next year thinking about what could have happened."

Beckett nodded and took to fidgeting his hands.

"I'm okay. Now what's bothering me more is this enzyme treatment. I mean, I'm essentially addicted to wraith."

"That bothers you?" Mckay asked incredulously.

Sheppard shrugged.

At some point in the conversation, after they had been talking for hours, Beckett disappeared and returned with a bottle of malt whiskey.

"You know," said Sheppard in a slurred voice. He held his glass up high and liquid sloshed down the sides as he spoke, "I think you guys have a little issue with the whole thing." He nodded and took a swig of his drink.

Beckett who was leaning on his elbow on the bed and clutching the whiskey bottle to his chest nodded in agreement and with eyes closed he muttered, "Aye. Maybe…." He paused to drink out of the bottle, "….maybe we were projecting our feelings onto you. Forcing you to get treatment because we were the ones with the problem."

Sheppard nudged Beckett in the shoulder with his toe and laughed, "You have been spending too much time with Kate."

"No," said Mckay raising a finger and swaying in his seat. He'd since rotated the chair and was leaning on the back of it, holding his glass in one hand as he spoke, "No, I think he has a point."

"Really?" Sheppard mumbled.

"Yeah. Think about it Carson," Mckay slurred, "We all wanted him to get help and really we needed the help. We had to watch it and we couldn't do a thing. You know?"

"Aye, its true." Beckett hugged the bottle closer to his chest, "I don't know how we didn't see it."

"I mean, we were helpless."

"Couldn't help," Beckett mumbled.

"We had to watch it."

"And I was there," said Sheppard laughing low and gutturally.

"Exactly," said Mckay using his glass to point. Some of the whiskey splattered on the floor and he stared down at it with a morbid expression on his face.

"Honestly. I'm fine," said Sheppard swigging his drink, "You don't have to worry about me."

"And…." Beckett said with a smile, "You haven't had your last dose."

Sheppard jolted upright, "Shit," he said with a goofy smile on his face.

"Ah," Beckett waved a hand up, "Your previous injection was just a vitamin shot. You don't need them anymore."

Sheppard slapped Beckett on the back, "So you turned me into a pin cushion for longer than I needed to be a….cushion?"

"That….made no sense," said Mckay with a laugh, "No sense at all."

"Well, are you sure you're okay about…" Beckett held out his palm flat.

"Guys," Sheppard grabbed the whiskey bottle out of Becketts vice like grip and poured himself another glass, "I'm glad it was me that was taken and not Rodney. I can handle this stuff. I'm mentally prepared for torture and…." He swigged his drink. "…stuff."

"But you'll talk to Kate if you ever feel the need?" Beckett asked sleepily.

"No," Sheppard announced, "I'll talk to you two."

"I'll rec…rec..recom……..suggest that all of the staff that looked at the video, talk to Kate about it."

"And me?" asked Sheppard.

"You can go back to duty….light duty that is," he said. He pushed himself up onto the bed and stumbled up onto his feet, "Time for bed," he said.

"Me too," said Mckay getting up slowly and reaching for his discarded jacket.

Sheppard got up to walk them to the door.

"Well it was good to talk," said Mckay. He laughed and shook his head, "As if we were the ones with the problem." He laughed again and slapped Sheppard on the back.

"You're sure you're okay?" asked Beckett leaning on the door frame heavily.

"Yeah," said Sheppard, "I'm good."

"He's good," said Mckay as the door closed. He could hear their laughter filtering down the hallway as they got farther away and he realised despite feeling tipsy that he actually felt pretty good. He was glad that he had talked to them.

Still holding his glass of whiskey he reached into his pocket and pulled out the disc that he had swiped from Heightmeyer's office. He stumbled over to his computer and slipped into the slot, sipping his drink as he waited for it to load.

The disc loaded up and he pressed play.

He waited as the screen lit up and Kolya's face filled it.

"Bastard," Sheppard muttered as he held up his glass in a mock salute.

He watched the feeding, watched as he arched his back, as his eyes bulged and the tendons in his arms rippled. He watched himself physically age, the lines around his eyes and mouth growing deeper, his hair getting lighter. He swigged the whiskey and felt it burn his throat on the way down.

He stopped the recording just as the wraith had had its fill and then rewound it to start again.

He repeated this move three more times, each time, being careful to really study himself.

He rewound it one last time and stood up shakily to watch it. He downed the last of the whiskey and took a step backwards, knocking his chair over and not catching it in time. After that, he felt his knees buckle and he dropped to the floor, eyes all the while focused on that screen. He felt his throat burning from a combination of alcohol and bile, his vision danced and he felt the sting of tears as they prickled his eyes. He pulled his legs up to his chest and watched as his face morphed into an old man he hardly recognised.

He buried his head into his knees and if possible, cried without shedding tears.

Tonight he would wallow, tomorrow he would compartmentalise and bury.

He had lied to his friends to protect them. He would never tell them how his encounter with Kolya and the wraith had affected him. He never would, because he would always be there for them, protecting them.

THE END


End file.
